The Joke's On Her
by Goddessnmb1
Summary: Hermione Granger scoffed at all her friends after they graduated from Hogwarts and got what she called ‘joke jobs’. Two years later, she’s forced to realize that the joke is on her. ADDED: Summary of events so far.
1. Nowhere Girl

**Hey, please review, I hope you enjoy; this world is not mine, but the plot is.**

THE JOKE'S ON HER

She looked into the small cabinet mirror of the bathroom of her tiny flat critically. But what she saw wasn't her reflection at all.

She could still see the bright and shining faces of her classmates, could see the bright colors of the Hogwarts graduation robes. Could remember the relief she felt at finally being allowed out of the Infirmary. She felt the cool breeze breathing down her neck as she gave the valedictorian address to the sea of grinning, proud parents. And she recalled thinking that it was all over, and now her real life could begin.

At Hogwarts, she had been the bookworm, the obnoxious over-achiever. In life, she hoped to accomplish something more than that. She had accepted a job with a research company, although Dumbledore had cautioned her against accepting her first offer, and so quickly. But it had seemed like much too good of an opportunity to pass up. She admitted that it was not a high position within the hierarchy of the office, but she was sure that there would be ample opportunities for her to climb the ladder and was content to wait. Two years later, she was still waiting. Still hoping to fulfill her dream.

After graduation, most of the class went their separate ways, to meet only by chance in Diagon Alley or at the semi-annual Class Reunions, which she never attended. She and Harry and Ron had promised to stay in close touch, and they had managed it fairly well, considering the jet-set life Harry led as a player for England's Quidditch team, and the traveling that Ron had to do to sell franchises of Wheasley's Wizard Wheezes, which was in great demand internationally. He also investigated new ideas for his enterprising twin siblings, and the business was as much his as theirs. When her friends had told her what they planned to do after Hogwarts, she was astounded.

"But Ron, you'll always be thinking that maybe you should have struck out on your own, and if the entire thing flops, what will you do? And Harry- do you _really_ want to find yourself stuck in some pathetic Ministry job when you're done being the famous Quidditch Seeker?" she had berated her two best friends.

"'Mione, I have no intention of turning out like Bagman. I know that I'm not as smart as you, but I got far more than just passable OWLS and I'm pretty sure that I can be accepted as an Auror when I've had enough at Quidditch playing. Just because we defeated Voldemort earlier this year, just a month ago, if you recall, doesn't mean that there aren't lots of pockets of Dark activity that need to be monitored and cleaned out. And Ron-" Harry was cut off by his best friend, no longer a too-gangly, too-red-haired kid.

Ron Weasley had grown up, and like Harry, he had grown up well. Even though they were just like brothers to her, Hermione had to admit that. 

"Ron can make his own decisions thanks ever so, 'Mione. And what about you? At least Harry and I both like our jobs and the people we'll be working with. You, on the other hand…."

"I'm sure that with time I'll come to like the people at the department. They'll just take a little time to get used to," Hermione snapped defensively.

"Hermione, you're going to be the only person there under the age of forty. You said so yourself. Why don't you just wait a little bit? I know that someone else is going to be damned eager to snatch you up, you just took this offer too soon, is all," Harry said practically, trying to sooth her feelings.

"No, I've made my decisions and obviously you two have made yours. We'll just have to see who made the better ones." Hermione had grown away from that over-eager girl who always had to be right, but sometimes….

Now, as she looked into the mirror that was still a bit foggy from her shower (and had never been very good quality to begin with) she had to face the reality that she was wrong. Her life had been steadily going down the tubes for two years, and she no longer felt that there was much left to save. There was no way out. Already, there was no way to distinguish her from her colleagues, all of whom were at least thirty years older than herself. Every morning she pulled her hair back into a severe bun, set her thick glasses on her nose (she had continually forgotten to buy contacts, so now she didn't even bother with what had been habit since before Hogwarts), and went to work in sensible pumps and whatever conservative outfit in muted colors she pulled out of her meager, shabby wardrobe. She had worked in the same industrial fluorescent light lit basement research room, and she had never even had a conversation with her bosses on the higher floor. There had never been any plans for her to move up and make better use of her not inconsiderable brainpower. Their employment division had simply been looking for cheap labor, and after two years of the overtime doing endlessly tedious work, she didn't have the energy to do anything else. 

Once a month she got to see Harry and Ron. Those days were both the highlights and downfalls of her month, because as much as she still loved her best friends, it was painful to hear them chatting eagerly about their jobs, and their lives. They had practically stopped asking what was new in her life, because she always gave the same answer: nothing. The joke was on her.

After a last scowl at herself, Hermione mechanically pulled on her clothes, did her hair, and walked the block and a half to her building. The lobby she entered upon opening the dark tinted glass doors was decorated very posh and muggle, because the company couldn't afford the expensive muggle-repellant charms, and it saved having to call for a Ministry Obliviate every time one ,wandered in. Hermione walked listlessly to what appeared to be an elevator, stepped in called out the name of her division, and was deposited on the scratchy carpeting in an ungraceful heap. As she had been every day for the past two years. 

Rather than get up and brush herself off and begin yet another day that was the same as the day before, she stayed seated. What was the point? She didn't want to do this. She had no social life to speak of, her friends had been growing steadily away from her… She was barely 20 years old with a completely dead-end job. She couldn't even cry, because she had done this to herself. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't heard the quasi-elevator ding. Someone tripped over her and she winced, expecting them to land hard. With her luck, it would be a new client. Their secretary, anyway. That was what her department did; they took orders from overworked secretaries, researched the topics and turned the work back to them. And it was never anything interesting, just things like cauldron-width throughout history and such.

The thump never came, and Hermione looked up to see who it was that was so graceful. Her jaw almost dropped. Since the defeat of Voldemort, after a year of tyranny and anti-Muggle supremacy, many wizards had begun to adopt Muggle wear to prove that Voldemort was never coming back. Then there were some, like this gorgeous creature, who just looked damn good in it. Tight but not disgustingly so black jeans, a black cashmere sweater and a black leather jacket were topped off with a slick black queue. And between them was the face of a man who was no doubt wondering why the hell she was sitting on the floor gawking at him. 

She blushed deep red and tried to get up, too embarrassed to see the hand he held out to help her. She flushed even deeper as she heard a rip in her ugly, frumpy skirt. It was on just one side, making her outfit look lopsided and even more ridiculous than it already was. What the hell was she going to do now? They weren't supposed to use unnecessary magic so she rfarely brought her wand, and transfiguring her skirt would certainly be categorized as such anyways. But her vanity prevented her from looking like this, so she leaned down and carefully ripped the other side. She had to admit that from what she could see as she awkwardly craned her head down to look at herself, it vastly improved her look. She now appeared almost her actual age. Well, she would if it weren't for her equally frumpy hairstyle, make-up, and, sadly enough, demeanor. She became suddenly aware of the stranger standing just a few feet away, looking at her with an expression of amusement.

"I-I'm _so_ sorry. I can never, it was the elevator, I…" Am the biggest dumbass in the world, she completed to herself. And obviously totally incoherent and incompetent as well. She had already been spoken to sharply twice this week about a lack of attention to her work, and she was treading on thin ice. And it was Wendsday!

"Don't worry about it." The voice was so familiar, velvet and chocolate and something that sent shivers down her back. Hermione inhaled sharply, pressed her lips together, and, with a slight and jerky nod, beat a hasty retreat to her miniscule cubicle. Or so she attempted. Apparently the man wanted something else.

"Excuse me, Ma'am?" he inquired politely. Ma'am? Hermione almost burst into tears. She was old and horrible.

"Uh, yes? Can I help you with anything? Perhaps I can direct you to the correct area of the building? These are the Research rooms…" Her voice trailed off as she registered the lack of confusion on the man's face. So he was in the right place then.

"No, this is correct. I am in need of some research which I find myself unable to do."  
'Well, that's what we're here for. May I inquire as to the subject?" She hid her near collapsing frame of mind under the false helpful and chirpy tone the secretaries upstairs used. 

"It involves the Dark Arts and Potions. I am actually looking for someone specifically. Hermione Granger? She was Head Girl of Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry two years ago, with the class of Potter, was one of those instrumental in the downfall of Voldemort-." Hermione's mouth had fallen open, but at the last bit her mind began to race, ridding itself of at least a modicum of its usual lethargy. Very few people even now spoke Voldemort's name, she and Harry and Ron notwithstanding, of course.

"I am…Hermione Granger." Her voice was soft and unsure, such a contrast to the 

obnoxious and bold voice that had formerly rung out across the seats in her days as a student. This was certainly not an improvement. Hermione did notice that this was the first time that the man had actually shown some facial expression. His eyes widened just barely in surprise.

"Ah. Then, shall we go to your office?" He gestured elegantly for her to lead the way, but Hermione did not miss the fact that he still hadn't given her his name.

"Certainly, Mr..?" She implied his filling in with his name, but he simply stared at her until she began to move towards her little box nervously, shifting under the gaze as she had when her formidable Potions Master had fixed his unyielding focus upon her. But at least he had challenged her mind, which was surely and not so slowly rotting away along with the papers and old people in this basement. Her friends might have cherished the hope that this assignment would be different, interesting, but she knew better. 

Probably a referencing of the various word groups and their origins and such. When they reached the opening to her bleak, blank "office" she realized that he would barely fit. Well, there was nothing for it. He walked in dubiously and squeezed himself into one of the two plastic chairs which she'd managed to fit in. She was a very small person, so it hadn't proven too much a problem, but she was now finding it quite difficult to find a place where she could sit without crowding the client. 

Speaking of whom, his eyes briefly scanned the walls and registered the lack of any personal touches. This was the one area of which the company could be occasionally yielding, and the others had small photos or magnets or at least a calendar up. Her's had none of these things. Originally, it had been purposeless since she planned on moving out immediately, and then she had not the energy, and now? Now she had nothing to put up. Snapping back from the past, she found the man's gaze on her again. It was decidedly unnerving. Clearing her throat, she attempted to maintain a professional manner.

"Sir, I, uh, think that you were about to speak of what work you…um, want researched, please? If you could?" She spoke not as an expert, but as someone to whom this was the last resort. She was shy and unconfident and practically trembling with nervousness, and not even because he was hot! 

"This is Miss. Hermione Granger?" The man's voice was incredulous. 

"Ye-yes. Sir." He shook his head quickly as though to rid it of something.

"Fine. I need an in-depth coverage of the Unforgivable Potions and how they relate to the Unforgivable Curses and in what way they were used to engineer the downfall of Voldemort." Hermione was dying to know why this man needed this information, some of which was only in her power to tell, but Company Policy ensured her immediate dismissal if she asked.

"Of course sir. By, um…when? Would you like it? And..how much?"

"Monday, if that would be all right. And as many feet as it takes to cover the topics which I have stated." He made to leave and Hermione almost gasped, having practically forgotten one of the most important rules. The secretaries all knew it so it wasn't necessary to ask, but apparently this man did not. She gathered her courage as he stopped awkwardly, rather impatient.

"S-sir… I need a down, um, payment? Of just a Galleon." The man's brows arched inward in frustration and Hermione shrank back from him in fear. He noticed and quickly smoothed out his face. 

"It isn't a problem, it's just that I don't have any money on me and I haven't got the time to go back and get some, what with my errands today." He finished and seemed to be musing on a course of action. 

"I'm so, uh, sorry, sir. But I can't begin the research…until…-." He cut her off rather than listen to her painfully indecisive apology.

"There's no way that the report can be done by Monday morning if I gave you the payment tomorrow, is there? Mind you, I still need all the detail and precision."

"Of course there is, sir. That would be fine." She would have to work around the clock all weekend, but it wasn't as though she had anything better to do. Or anything at all. The man flashed her a melting smile.

"Tomorrow, then." And he ducked out the doorway. A moment later she heard the doors of the wizard elevator open, and then heard them woosh closed.

Hermione turned as she heard a hissing sound emanating from her desk. Oh no, no, no. Not again. There was an envelope that was rapidly turning orange on her desk. It was her assignment for the day, and if it wasn't opened by a specified times, as had happened twice this week already, it would begin to whistle and she would be reprimanded. She rushed to it and tore it open to read how she would occupy her time today. Oh, of course. How thrilling. She was to prepare a 30 page research document on the various species of gillyweed. Nothing more than perfect detail on their various and minute differences and similarities of feature, and habitation- not even anything on their purposes, which might actually be remotely interesting. She smiled ironically, thinking how surprised her classmates would be if they discovered that there _were_ actually things that Hermione Granger found 'boring'. Then she pushed her glasses back up her nose and set about her work.

***

Hermione bit back a sigh and began to explain patiently, that she had not broken the rules.

"Sir, this is not something that anyone else could have done. I am the only one who has a working knowledge of the ways in which Dark Arts Potions were used in Volde- You-Know-Who's defeat." She hastily amended the name when her employer began to blanch. 

"But you know the rules, Miss. Granger. They must be observed. When a _junior_ such as yourself gets an assignment, she must first pass it off to higher levels. Only if no one else has taken it may you accept it. And I'm sure that someone else would like to do this." His whiny voice was just what one would expect to issue from the weedy, greasy looking man with his stiff and too-small bargain basement clothing.

"But sir, it isn't possible for anyone else to-." Hermione was cut off rudely, although her tone had been at its most reasonable. 

"None of your lip, Granger. You are a selfish and impertinent bint and your pay will be docked for refusing to follow the rules. You have already been warned twice this week. You've also probably almost lost us this account with your incompetent handling of the situation yesterday- it is hardly conceivable that anyone would want you to research something when they could have one of our _accomplished _employees-." Hermione, pressed against the door of the elevator, where she had been immediately besieged by her boss, suddenly fell back as they opened. She was, amazingly enough, caught easily and set back on her feet as her savior began to speak.

"Hm, and yet its true. Miss. Granger is the only person in this entire organization," and here, although Hermione couldn't see it, the man from the previous day raked a dismissive gaze over the much smaller man," who has any amount of intelligence. She _will_ be the person who researches this case and to hell with any of your other…_fine_ researchers. There is no argument over this." The biting sarcasm clearly overwhelmed Mr. Gavin, but he made a weak attempt to rally.

"Yes, well…who are you? To say that?" As the gentleman, dressed again in casually perfect muggle clothing, stepped around Hermione, Gavin cringed. The patron kept going until he was directly in front of her boss, menacingly towering over him.

"Who am I?" he asked with quiet deadliness. "Who am _I_?" The man shook his head slowly and a small smile blossomed upon his lips. He flicked a card and a coin into Mr. Gavin's shaking palm and turned to Hermione.

"I'll send someone over for it on Monday morning." He waited for her nod, then exited the basement.

Bereft of the presence the man had, Hermione's boss turned over the business card in his hand. Hermione already knew what it would say.

_S.S. Snape_

_Headmaster of Hogwarts:_

_School__ Of __Witchcraft__ and Wizardry_

So read the elegant black script. Dumbledore had retired after Hermione's last year, eager to enjoy some of life's little pleasures, like being a tester for Weasley's Whizard Wheezes. He seemed to actually like being turned into a random animal at random times or finding himself floating in a candy bubble high above the ground. Or so Ron told her. He had turned the school over to Professor Snape, Minerva McGonagall having died so nobly for the Cause right before the final battle. If Harry's words were to be believed, the castle was running in peak condition. Hermione, Harry, and Ron had gotten to know their stern Potions Master much better after their fourth year, when they all began working for the Cause. He had proved invaluable in the defeat of Voldemort, and had truly gained the wizarding world's thanks. No one had voiced dissension against his inheritance of the position of Headmaster, and neither his intelligence, magical capability, nor administrative powers had so far proved problematic. However, Hermione had been unable to attend either Dumledore's Retiring Party (although he was now Governor of the Board) or Snape's Initiation Party. In fact, she realized that she had not seen any of her old classmates or teachers save Harry, Ron, and Sirius (who had become their DADA professor using a Confoozlement charm in their fifth year). So when her _teacher_ had waltzed in, she had had no reserves in thinking how hot he was. Now, she just wanted to crawl somewhere and hide. 

She had just proven to the one teacher she had never gotten real approval from how stupid and pathetic she really was. The compliments she had just received had not made their way into her consciousness. She had no life, she had a dead-end job, and although she had known this in her heart for sometime, and had even begun to admit as much to herself on a daily basis, the absolute certainty crashed in on her in one fell swoop and she felt like a cannon ball had been launched through her stomach.

She turned woodenly to her employer, unable to show any facial expression for fear that she would crack. 

"Sir, if I may begin this assignment?" She kept her voice respectful with some difficulty. The man looked like he was about to wilt.

"Granger, if you mess this one up you will be out on your butt with no job and no references before you can say 'homeless'. And don't worry, we all know the nature of our glorious Headmaster- you _will _screw up." The man turned a malicious smile to her and walked away leaving Hermione floored. The worst part was that he was right. It wasn't even as though Professor Snape had ever liked anything she did in school, and she had no doubt that her talents had actually decreased since she took this fruitless and unchallenging job. Well, there was nothing for it but to try her best. Hermione Granger had nothing left but her determination, so she was just going to have to make sure that that was all she needed.

***

Buried up to her neck in books, Hermione Granger was in her element. The Head Librarian of the International Library of Magick, the English branch, had been ecstatic to see her after the last two years. They had struck up something of a friendship, since Hermione had been in so often conducting research for her various 7th year projects and personal interests. However, Hermione's job had lately no need of the fine extents of the National Library, so Hermione hadn't seen Mr. Alberterryfink lately. Or "Alby" as she had jokingly nicknamed him. Almost as old as Dumledore, and certainly as batty, he never failed to make her laugh, and was always helpful in her work, even when she wished to be left alone and try something herself.

"Hermione, dear. It's almost lunchtime. Do you want me to have something brought over from that little Indian place you were so fond of? Did you remember to cross-reference the-." Alby smiled as he was distractedly cut off. The academician at work, and Hermione was one of the finest he had ever seen. As good as the other one who had been in here so often, although he had to admit, on reflection, that that one hadn't been in much in the past two years either. He almost sighed, thinking how people changed. Hermione had turned from a sparkling and energetic ball into a small, tightly wound knot of confusion and self-hatred. He had sensed it radiating off her when she Portkeyed in. He had also seen the grim perseverance that was set in her deep brown eyes, which no longer held that exciting youthful glimmer. He just hoped that it was not gone forever. 

"Yes please, Alby. Some chicken Tandoori and, oh, some picnic balls. And some coconut ice cream, too, if you would. But as to the cross-referencing, of course I did. I haven't been away _that _long!" She looked up and gave a small laugh, not really seeing the odd expression on the Head Librarian's face.

They were so similar it was uncanny, he thought. Well, seeing as how she would be firmly ensconced in the library until it closed for the day or she had found all the information she needed, he would just go and order that lunch. Might as well get himself some as well. She liked it mild, while he himself wouldn't eat anything less than mouth-burning hot. He did, however, think how true it was that for most people, two years was long enough to forget the fine points of a difficult skill. But not Hermione Granger. 

***

Alby was woken from a brief after lunch nap, as Hermione had had no need of him and things were usually very slow in the afternoon…or any other time, for that matter. The figure before him was the same as the person he had been ruminating on before, and he was just as happy to see him as he had been on the appearance of Hermione. Today was shaping up to be a great day, regardless of the sleet beating down on the roof from the bleak sky outside.

"It's been so long!" The man smiled shyly and Alby found himself peering closely at him over his thick spectacles. Utterly useless, as a simple charm took care of eye problems, but he liked the look they gave him. But back to what he was looking at; something he had always hoped but never really believed he would see again. He saw the boy of his sixth year. The improved version, that is. Now the man carried himself with total confidence, yet not arrogance, and his features were indelibly marked by the events of the past twenty years, but the burden was lifted off his shoulders. Only to be replaced, Alby knew, by an even greater one, yet the secrecy, the diversion, was gone, and he was out of the dungeons.

"It has. And for that…my apologies. You are aware, I am sure, of the changes that have occurred at Hogwarts." The voice was deep and sonorous and rather dramatic seeing as how Alby had known him since he was a boy. But then, it wasn't affected, it was simply how the boy…man, was. And man he was, from the looks of him. Alby gave him an once-over, making sure the man saw exactly what he was doing.

He smiled and held out his arms encased in black leather and spun around casually. "An improvement, Alby? In so short a time…" His voice trailed off as he was reminded of what he had come here to do. He really hated to, he honestly didn't have the time, but it certainly didn't look as though Granger was going to be able to get the research job done. He didn't actually have the time to stand here and chat with his friend. He should be buried in books by now. He really wondered what the hell had happened to what Albus had claimed was Hogwart's most brilliant student since himself in the few years since graduation. She really looked a mess. 

"What can I do for you? Anything particular that you want to look into, or do you want me to suggest some light reading?" The man's tone was humorous, as he knew well the inundation of work that he was thrown into from the time he woke up to the time he finally got around to bed.

"Yes, I really wish I was able to stick around and chat, but I have a great deal to do, and of course, never enough time to do it in. I wanted to hire someone else for this research, as my position does not give me time for spare projects of my own, and I have not yet scraped up the courage to ask my predecessor how he managed it all. Unfortunately, the candidate I asked was a mess, looked as though she wasn't capable of lifting a pen to scratch in a request card, let alone do the sort of rigorous work I need and thought her capable of. Lost all of her competence. Sad, really. Almost pathetic, as everyone had such high hopes for her." He remembered someone else who had made the wrong choice right after graduation, but he really couldn't compare such a monumental screw-up of his life _that had been with Granger's little fit of depression and current incompetence._

"**Have **I, Professor?" He had been facing the information desk where Alby had been sleeping, his back to the rest of the library, but he had no trouble figuring out who's voice that was. After all, it had issued from the Gryffindor side of his Potions classroom for seven years.


	2. Getting Better

**_Disclaimer:  I do not own this or any other universe, but I like to live in them anways._**

**I'm really sorry that I am such an idiot, but I made a couple of transportational errors in the previous chapter.  They have now been corrected, but I know I rarely go back and read these, so I better just tell you what they were: firstly, Hermione walks to her office, not Apparates, and doesn't bring her wand, secondly, she portkeys into the library.  Those are the big ones that have impact on the story.  I really need to finish editing this, post it, because I still have all my gifts to wrap and its almost ****midnight****.  Damn.  Please give me a present even if you hate it and REVIEW;) And also, have a great Christmas and holiday.**

Hermione yawned and stretched, arching her back until the stiffness from sitting hunched over was pulled lout of her muscles.  She chuckled a little, thinking of how many times she had gone back to her room at Hogwarts and been unable to find a comfortable spot on her bed because she'd spent the entire day seated and researching.  It had taken her rather a while to realize she simply had to take breaks and walk around the library, which of itself was interesting.  In fact, all wizarding buildings still seemed something of a novelty to her.  She gazed around at the place that felt like home to her, that just felt *right* whenever she was there.  Although it did tend to shift around a rather lot.  Over to her right, next to an enormous dark oak bookshelf, stood several suits of armor who occasionally served for an interesting chat or two.  In front of her was an entire wall filled with bookshelves, and a balcony containing even more.  In front of her stood a bank of ornate desks in all styles, and with as many features as can be imagined.  Some had spell check features built in, others contained direct connections to the library database, which worked similarly to a muggle library's computerized one.   And then there were the odder things, like the desk Hermione had mistakenly set some food down on.  It had begun reading off the nutritional information.  And yelling at her for it.  Hermione shuddered, remembering that that day there had been someone else in the library.  She wasn't sure who, but they had been wearing a dark cloak, and the hood was pulled up so that when the figure had turned to her in annoyance, it had looked disturbingly like the Ghost of Christmas Past from the muggle tale by Dickens.  Speak of other people… She heard Alby's voice with rather a joyous sound to it, and the returning murmur of another.  There were very few people she had ever seen Alby react to at all.  In fact, only herself.  Curious, though the adage about the cat filtered through her mind, she moved from the recess with the desks to the librarian's console near the main entrance.  As she got closer, she heard a snippet of conversation and quickly garnered both who was speaking and who the bastard was speaking _about!  Pathetic, indeed.  Lost all competence?  Her!?  She felt herself filled with outrage and before she could check herself, although she wasn't so sure she wanted to, words burst from her mouth is a soft, deadly way.  _

            "**Have I, Professor?"  She hid a smile when she saw his back stiffen in recognition of her voice after a few moments.  "Hm, perhaps we oughtn't go about spouting how hopeless other people are, now should we?"  He had turned to face her now, an impassive look upon his face. She itched to punch it, if only to get some reaction from him.  "After all, such a man as yourself should never be accused of being so inconsiderate.  I was about to leave for my _pathetic apartment, so if you will excuse me, I would like to collect my __pathetic coat and go back to my __pathetic life, where, you have no doubt decided, I live __pathetically alone."  She sneered at him as she tried to brush past him, having already had her belongings in her arms.  She was stopped by a long fingered hand gripping her wrist.  She tried to wrench free, but it was to no avail.  Her wrist merely hurt the more she tried to struggle.  Eventually, she desisted and glared up at her tall ex-professor's face.  "What?" she snapped._**

            He released her wrist and stepped back to give her some space.  

            "I'm sorry," he said simply.  "I didn't realize that you were there."  Rather than having the effect of appeasing her, it did the opposite, Severus soon realized with a slight feeling of dread as storm clouds gathered on her features.  He shot a Look at Alby, as he could see the man was struggling to keep himself from giggling.  

            "And it would have been perfectly all right if I'd never have known?  If you had doubted my abilities to handle the research, you ought to have simply told me and _left."  She stressed the last word in hope that he would get out of her way and allow her to go._

            "You looked too…well, yes, pitiable-."  He was immediately cut off- by a slap.  His eyes went wide as he stared at his furious former student.  Her lips had tightened into a furious line and her very hair seemed to shout her anger into the otherwise silent room.  

            "That was definitely a mistake, Miss. Granger."  His tone was low and silky, the deadly one that terrified students compared when they were later lucid to the cobra before it strikes.  Suddenly, the spell was broken by Alby's voice.

            "Sorry about this, but its closing time."  The cheerfulness was repugnant to both occupants of the room, who were occupants no more, as Alby clapped his hands and tossed them both out of the library.  It was one of the unique powers of magickal librarians to be able to toss anyone they wish out of the library and anywhere within a five mile or so radius of the place.  

            Severus and Hermione soon found themselves standing on a dark street corner somewhere in the midst of Muggle London facing each other with similarly shocked expressions.  Although neither of them could see the other's face,  as Alby had thrown Hermione's coat out along with her and it had landed, rather unfortunately, upon Severus's head.  By the time he had wrestled it off, they had both regained their composure- and furor.  He held the piece of cloth out to her icily, and she took it silently in an equally disdainful grasp.  

            "Goodbye, Professor, although I can't say that it was a pleasure meeting you."  She turned away from him with a stiff incline of her head, only to realize that she had no earthly idea where she was.  And her wand was back at the apartment, as she had gone to the library from work and it was pointless to bring her wand to work with her.  She had also become aware of her surroundings; this was obviously not a very nice part of town, and she could hear the sound of breaking glass somewhere near by, and clanking of what sounded like a chain link of fence.  The side walk was littered with stuff she had probably rather not know of, and the only light in the neighborhood seemed to be the one behind her, where presumably Snape was still standing.  She felt a cool breeze whistle by, and then she heard a threatening voice from the shadows somewhere in front of her.  

            "Hey baby, I wouldn't be out here if I was you.  You never know what might leap out of the shadows."  The statement was followed by low, menacing laughter from more than one man, and she sensed movement.  Hermione shrieked and ran as fast as she could back to the light and the figure standing there.

            Snape was pissed.  First, Granger had dared to slap him, then Alby had actually thrown him out of the library, and for no reason that he could tell.  He had gathered at once that this was not a particularly nice area of town, but the girl could take care of her own damn self.  He turned around and prepared to Apparate, not sparing a thought as to why she hadn't done the same, when he heard her scream, and then the sound of fast footfalls clattering toward him.  He could also make out the sounds of a few pairs of heavy boots, a little further away than the girl's.  He whirled back just in time to watch the girl stumble on a broken bottle and come crashing towards the cement.  He leaped forward to stop her from hitting, grabbing her in time for them both to see the demented grins on several men's face's and the flash of metal in their hands.  Severus's survival instincts kicked in and he Apparated them away to the first place he thought of.

            Because he had never done this with another person, although he had had to do it several times himself, he miscalculated.  Just a little.  Instead of arriving on the doorstep of his house, he was in the chest-deep moat, as was Miss. Granger.  Well, it was chest-deep to him.  On the much smaller girl it was way past her head.  She was struggling to gain footing and trying helplessly to hold her bag over head, not wanting its contents wet.  Severus reached over and took the bag from her grasp and grabbed her by the arm, leaving her to sort of doggy paddle with one arm along with him as he strode out of the muddy water and pulled them both up onto the bank.  The night air was cooler than in day, but it was still quite warm, luckily for them both.  Hermione was sputtering and gagging from the water she had inadvertently swallowed, but that didn't stop her from giving him the death glare of the century.  Her clothes were soaked through…but so were his.  He gave her the glare right back.  Finally, she was able to breath fairly normally.  Once she spoke, he wished she was still gasping for breath.

            "What the fuck did you do?  Are you deficient or something?  And where are we?  You bastard!  Do you even know where we are?  You could have fucking splinched us!  My head could have fucking ended up in the Minister's soup and the rest of me in an igloo in Alaska, all thanks to your stupidity! Or did you try to drown me on purpose for some sick, twisted reasons of your own?  Answer me!"  Her voice was scratchy and it was obvious that she was beyond upset, but Severus couldn't resist.

            "I would answer you, my _dear, if you weren't acting like the spoiled little brat I had to teach for seven years.  And if you didn't swear quite so…" he suddenly remembered something," FUCKING HELL!  BLOODY FUCKING…"  He trailed off in frustration, running his hand through his long black hair, accidentally flicking more water onto Hermione's already wet face.  She brushed it off slowly, the eye contact making the movement seem almost life-threatening._

            "What?"  She made the words sound as sharp and irritated as she could.

            "We…are stuck here.  For tonight, at least."  At her perplexed look, he realized clarification was most likely necessary.  "You see, there are heavy anti-Apparition wards up on my entire estate, and the walk to get outside them would take hours.  It is the middle of the night here, as well."

            "Then how the fuck did we get here?" she inquired abrasively.

            "A certain unique feature of the house; if someone of the family blood tries to Apparate when the wards are up but they are desperate to get in, it overrides the wards.  It's very handy, but I think the house was surprised at my bringing along another person, hence the moat accident.  But it also leaves us with no way to get out. Whenever this has happened to me, I stay a little while in the house and then, when I feel like it, I walk outside the wards and Apparate.  Such is the plan I propose for us now."  Hermione gave him a look of pure disbelief and shock.

            "You have got to be kidding me.  Don't you have any Floo powder?"

            "Not connected to the Network."

            "Take down the wards?"

            "Dumbledore's."

            "Broomsticks?"

            "I believe my first broomstick ever might be around here somewhere.  Of course, I can't couch for its reliability, but feel free-."

            "Horses?"

            "No."

_            "Car?"_

            "No."

            "Well…what about-."

            "No.  Miss. Granger, you _are free to walk alone.  Just down that big road-."_

            "No wand."

            "Oh, so that's why you didn't Apparate before."  Then the realization of what she had said hit him.  "YOU WEREN'T CARRYING YOUR WAND?!?!" 

            "No.  No reason to at work, and you know you Portkey to the library using your card, seeing as the building moves all the time."

            "You know you're staying here until it gets light?  Then we will walk to the edge of the estate and get home."

            She nodded, if rather sullenly.  Snape nodded back and swept into the gloomy castle, set in Greece.  As he entered the house, the charms he had set caused all the lights in his most-used rooms to turn on and cool air to begin circulating throughout them. However, at the moment, they were dripping on the marble floor his mother had never let him step on. He sneered and dripped some more, until he remembered that he was an adult now, and that he would have to clean it up.

            "I don't keep a house elf, and don't expect me to act like one," he said brusquely.  She gave him a curious look.

            "Why not?"

            "Because I'm rather obviously not…oh. Because they annoy me.  Always too eager to do their job.  They get under my skin.  Like certain former Gryffindor Head Girls I could name," he replied with a significant glance at her as he muttered an _accio.  A small bundle of clothing flew at him and he grabbed the black cloth out of the air a moment before it hit Miss. Granger, who had turned right into it's path._

            He held one of the robes out to her.  The he looked at it, then looked at Granger, then looked at his robe again, then looked at the tiny girl in front of him again.  He crinkled his forehead and quickly transfigured them into something more her size.  And while he was at it, he made them a little more feminine as well.  

            Hermione smiled when he handed her the clothing, charmed by his thoughtfulness.  All his earlier manner was forgotten for the moment and she looked around at the enormous receiving hall, noting the sweeping staircase straight ahead.  

            Snape followed her gaze, and, charmed by her smile, her earlier behavior forgotten, offered the girl his arm.  She took it lightly, and he walked her up the stairs, ignoring the wet fabric of her sleeve.  His own was wet anyways.  They turned right, down a light pink hallway, and to the bedroom he remembered vaguely.  He rarely used this house, let alone the female guest wing, but this room was where his mother had always put her favorite people.  Which actually was probably a warning rather than a recommendation, but he had no other idea as to where to put the girl.  He opened the door and peered into the unlit room.  Unable to make out anything, he pulled out his wand to light the room, pleased with the girl's awed intake of breath until he looked around.  The room was horrible!  A solid mass of frills and ruffles, the enormous bed was little more than a decoration.  He certainly could not think of sleeping in it.  The entire room was decorated, in a disgusting attempt at unity, in an unrelenting shade of eye-smarting pink, and the walls held lurid pictures of such sickly sweet scenes as fat cherubs winging about on surrealistic clouds and virginal unicorns riding into colored breezes.  He nearly gagged, but decided not to offend Hermione's taste.  Although he wasn't so sure that he gave a damn if she liked _this. _

            "Well, once you have changed- and feel free to freshen up or what have you, meet me down in the Entrance Chamber and I will show you to the kitchen.  An hour should suffice."  Wondering what had changed him back to the stiffly formal person, Hermione nodded mutely and closed the door as he exited.  The first order of business was to get out of these wet things.  She stripped as she looked around at the ghastly room where she would be spending the night.  It was so overdone, she felt like she would suffocate from the oppressive frizzles that bedecked the room.  Thank goodness Professor Snape had taken her horrified gasp for one of awe, although she was rather surprised that he was so proud of this room.  Well, different strokes for different folks, she thought as she wandered idly through the door on her left to inspect the bath room.  It too was the same eye-smarting pink, and the tub was made of a slick material that felt wrong to her skin.  Still, she wanted a bath, so she ran the water and found a washcloth and soap.  Drying her hair while looking in the mirror, she was rather shocked when it began to speak.

            "So, you're the one.  Severus hasn't brought anyone here since he inherited this house.  At least we don't get dirty with disuse, seeing as how he was at least thoughtful enough to put annual cleaning charms on.  You're pretty enough, I suppose.  Pureblood, of course.  You'll have to do."  Hermione was speechless for several reasons, the first one being that she had never known that a mirror could sound so snobby.

            "I most certainly am not 'pureblood'" she answered indignantly.

            "Oh.  Mudblood, are we?  Well, you never know, Severus may actually plan on keeping you around for a bit until he finds someone…suitable."  Hermione's skin crawled at hearing the blatant prejudice and she backed out of the room.  On the other side of the room was a wardrobe, a dark wood thing which spat words out at her.

            "Running away, are we?  Perhaps it's that thin blood of yours.  You know, there has never been someone as lowly as you in this room."

            "We aren't so sure we like this arrangement, Mudblood."  The nightstand chipped in in a similarly supercilious tone.  Hermione pulled her robe tighter around her and turned in a circle, wondering where the next attack would come from.

            "You won't last long here, with him.  And I'd be very careful when I shut my eyes tonight; no one in this house likes yo_ur sort," the door spoke menacingly.  Hermione would have laughed if they weren't all so convincing.  It was all too much like that day that she had stood in the center of a circle of bloodthirsty Death Eaters. Praying that this was worth it, that Harry and Ron would get the time they needed.  The cherubic face of the large picture on the wall turned vicious and snarled at her, and Hermione, whose nerves had decayed in the basement research room, just ran out of the room.  But there were pictures on all the walls, all chanting the same words along the lines of "filthy mudblood, go home."  Hermione couldn't help but give a scream, pressing herself against the slender portion of the wall that contained no portraits, eyes wide with fear._

            Severus exited the room as soon as he could, muttering a quick spell to  mop up the water they had dripped on the floor.  He walked down the hall to the family portion of the house, finally getting to his bedroom.  He refused to take the master bedroom.  That would always be his father's, and he would never be his father.  He stripped the wet clothing from his body and strode into the bathroom for a quick shower.  A few minutes later, he was drying his hair and dressing in clothes more suitable for dinner, remembering to transfigure something for her.  The robes has simply been a quick solution.  Just as he was about to check the clock that stood on his bedside table to see how much longer he had until he was to meet Hermione, he heard her scream.  He ran as fast as he could down the hall, straining his ears to find a clue as to what had caused her to react so.  It wasn't difficult.  He could hear the threats and chants his paintings were throwing at the poor girl.  He had to wonder what had caused him to be so stupid as to place a Mud…muggleborn girl in a wing his  that his parents and their associates had favoured.  Then again, there wasn't a place here that wouldn't react to Hermione like this.  Except for his rooms.  By this time had had reached the girl, driven flat against the all by the insults, eyes darting wildly for an escape.  As he approached, he heard the immediate extinction of all sound save Hermione's harsh breathing.  He slowed down once he was near her, trying to be as non-threatening as possible.  

            "They were- they were…  Never mind.  Never mind."  Hermione struggled to regain her composure, eventually succeeding with typical Gryffindor perseverance.     __

"It's all right.  They're terrible bigots, but the situation has never come up.  I try to avoid this place as often as I can, so I've never gotten around to replacing these ghastly furnishings.  He felt a picture sneer at him behind his back, and he incinerated it without a second thought, grabbing Hermione's arm and pulling her, shock-still, away from the smoldering ruin.  As they walked, he felt her begin to relax and begin a normal breathing pattern.

            "Still, I overreacted.  After we eat, I'm sure I can just go back there and rectify things."  Sure, although her heart was racing at the very thought of having to face the accusing, sneering voices again.

            "Most certainly not.  You will be staying in my rooms.  They are, unfortunately, the only rooms in the house, including other than bedrooms, which do not contain purist furnishings."  Hermione stopped stock still and looked at him with confusion, revulsion, and…fear (?) in her eyes.  

            He arched an eyebrow at her and smirked.  "I will take the rooms across from the hall.  She nodded, quickly tailoring her features to read only polite interest in whatever he was saying.  Severus suppressed a smile.  When they got to the top of the stairs, he paused to tell her that he would show her his rooms, where he had transfigured something more suitable for eating dinner in.

            Hermione closed the door after Severus Snape once again, still feeling a little insecure as she looked at the room.  It was sparsely furnished, dominated by a gorgeous wooden four poster with heavy draperies.  One window overlooked a forest and a lake she could vaguely make out in the scanty moonlight.  The lighting was of elegant candle sconces in the walls, and they lit interesting, but not intimidating, shadows on the remaining furniture; the large desk and the table beside the bed.  She also noted a wardrobe that looked nothing like the one in her former room stationed in a corner.  It was a little odd that although he obviously owned the house, and was equally obviously the only person who lived in it, that he did not have the master bedroom, but he had always been strange.  She stared down at the bundle of clothing in her hand and shrugged, figuring she might as well change quickly and not keep him waiting.  Him...she had never thought she would react to her former Potions Master as she had.  Even in her terror, when he had come running to her rescue, with the top two buttons of his shirt undone, she could not help but, well, check him out.  He was just so gorgeous!  Dressed casually, but perfectly again, in black cotton pants and a white collared shirt, she may have been frightened beyond belief when he had told her where she was sleeping, but that certainly didn't mean she hadn't considered it.  She looked at herself in the full length mirror which appeared as she turned around looking for one.  Her hair was all right, though it would be frizzy without end since she had no brush.  She didn't really care about her makeup, but the outfit he had transfigured for her was wonderful.  With a short sleeved top and a calf-length skirt, the entire ensemble was a very complementary shade of cream.  He had even remembered a pair of matching high heels.  She smiled at herself, and then realized that she really wanted a toothbrush.  The door to the bathroom opened by itself, and Hermione stared at it a moment, wary.  Still, it wasn't as though she was unfamiliar with taking risks, and this was a very small one in the grand scheme of things.  She walked into the bathroom, admiring the style and elegance of the distribution of furnishings, before her gaze fell upon the counter and the toothbrush and paste that lay there next to a splendid hairbrush.  She grinned and quickly finished getting ready for dinner, then walked quickly out to the Entrance Chamber, he had called it.  She enjoyed the feeling of sweeping down the grand staircase.

            He waited for the girl.  He hated waiting, but he supposed it was his fault, since he had so unfeelingly subjected her to that.  Luckily, she took as short a time as she could, and he rather enjoyed the sight of her sweeping down the stairs in the clothes he had conjured for her.  He offered her his arm again, and she took it with a smile.  They walked to the kitchen, through various rooms that he gave passing commentary on.  At last, and not without small grumbles issuing from both of their stomachs, they reached the kitchen.  Severus paused, unsure as to whether she wanted to make something for herself.  When she just looked at him, waiting for instructions, he spoke.

            "Miss. Granger, I'm afraid that I am not much of a cook.  It is simply not a skill a bachelor who lives at Hogwarts need attain, and I usually make do with a simple meal, like a sandwich."  

            Hermione smiled.  "Unfortunately, I have no great culinary skills either.  The extent of my cooking lies about in the sandwich range, too, so we shall just make do with that.  If you can make a salad, I can do the sandwiches, and all will be fine."  Severus nodded his agreement and went in search of a serving bowl and some lettuce.  Thankfully, the kitchen was amply supplied since the charms he sued kept things delightfully fresh for great lengths of time.  In just a few moments, they sat down at the kitchen table with ham and cheese sandwiches on rolls and a delicious salad with cucumbers and a light, tangy dressing of which Hermione much approved.  Snape smiled as she took a bite and expressed her enjoyment, explaining that he liked to make his own.  The one thing he _could do, seeing how close it was to potions brewing.  They then launched into a conversation about the applications of potions and the abilities used to make them outside of their traditional ways.  He was amazed to find her so intelligent and capable conversationalist.  In fact, he rarely had the patience to spend an hour and a half talking to anyone, let alone a former student.  But such a time it was, and he looked up from finally putting the now clean dishes away to see her stifling a yawn while nodding to a point he was making about the eccentricities of certain British wizarding notions.  He caught her eye pointedly, and she blushed.  _

            "I suppose I ought to turn in.  I'm not really used to late nights, I usually just finish work, eat dinner and go to bed."  She stopped, close-lipped, after this, as though she had said too much and was now painfully regretting her disclosure.  His next words served to put her at ease.

            "As, lately, have I.  Come, let's go upstairs." They walked away, the lights extinguishing themselves as they exited; engrossed in the conversation his observation had interrupted.  They stood, still talking, outside her door for a bit, until Hermione yawned again.  Snape smiled a little and stepped back with a quiet goodnight, and entered his rooms opposite to hers.  Hermione changed into the robe he had originally transfigured for her; it would return to its form 24 hours after the spell had been cast if he had used the most logical time limit.  She drew the thick black draperies and turned down the covers with a little bit of trouble, as she was so short.  She hopped into bed and snuggled between the covers, inhaling the scent of freshly laundered sheets, and a hint of musk that was him.  She drifted off into the most untroubled, pleasant sleep she had had for almost two years.   About an hour later, Hermione awoke to find a ghost hovering over the bed, smiling cruelly at her as ghostly blood dripped from its bony fingers.  It was unmistakably a Snape, and unmistakably furious. This time, Hermione didn't even fight the urge to scream, and it was shrill and piercing and definitely penetrated the sleep of the man in the room across the hall.

***evil theme music plays, then turns startlingly into the song "Christmas Don't Delay" by ****Alvin**** and the Chipmunks* Hm, well, I hope you liked that, I know that I really have a lot of fun writing this story.  I will have even more fun if I get lots of nice or any reviews.  I feel so proud of myself, posting a chapter for each of my stories today.  Well, I wanted to let y'all know that I was ecstatic about the reviews I got!**

**Veresna**** Ussep: Thank you so much for the encouragement.  The muses are happy-dancing with sugar plums.**

**Elluxion****: Wow, now the muses are going into shocks from all the delicious sugar they ingested from you lovely review, thanks!**

**Claribel****: And here is the update****J******

**MadAboutHarry****: Yeah, it was a little plot bunny that bit the muses, and I'm glad you enjoy it.**

**Deritine****: Oh dear!  Hope you're okay; I know how that can feel when an author does that to me…but its so *fun*.  *pouts*  Well, here is the next bit, and hopefully very soon for you.**

**Clarity: Glad you like it and here it is.**

**JANET YOU ARE CONSPICUOSLY ABSENT FROM THIS LIST.  UNLESS YOU ARE WRITING RAVEN MOOOORE, YOU ARE IN…er, its Christmas.  Just going to keep telling myself that.   **


	3. We Can Work It Out

**_Disclaimer:  If it was mine, this wouldn't even be here, now would it?  *sigh*_**

**I am so incredibly happy about all of the people who reviewed!  You are so nice, and, as always, my replies are down at the bottom of the chapter.  I want to wish everyone a good New Years****J**** I would start having a happy New Years if people reviewed with comments, questions and critiques, so please indulge me!  **

Severus burst out of the room, pulling his robe around him as he flung open the door.  The site on the bed made the terrified shout completely understandable, and he realized he had to act quickly.  Sir Snape had enormous powers of his own, but Severus could counteract any of the ghost's little tricks, some of which weren't so little.

            "Sir Snape you _will desist at once.  She is my guest and-."  He was cut off by a voice that sounded very much like his own._

            "She is a filthy Mudblood, Severus.  Sleeping in your bed, trying to invade your sainted mother's favorite room; she will bring nothing but trouble and destruction to this house.  That is in the nature of these _creatures."  Here the ghost shot a venomous look at the girl, shaking his disturbing hands at her._

            "She is here with my permission and express wish, in fact. You will leave immediately or I will have you Banished." 

            "Fine," the ghost muttered sullenly and, with a final hateful look, slid through the walls.

            "Will you be all right?"  She nodded and seemed fine, so he left.  Still, he did not trust the ghost.  He waited outside the room for a count of ten, and opened the door just as the ghost slithered inside the room again.  Hermione backed up against the headboard of the bed, determined not to shout again.  The ghost was so close she could see him even without her glasses.

            "Out!" Severus yelled, enraged.  The ghost quickly popped out of sight.  Severus sighed and calmed down a little.  "The only way to be sure that he doesn't come back is my being here.  Hm," he said, looking around for a space large enough to hold the small bed he was about to transfigure.  He felt Hermione get out of bed, and looked up.

            "A pillow and some sheets and blankets will do fine. "

            "You're not going to sleep on the floor."

            "Well, there's no room for another bed, and _you're certainly not sleeping on the floor of your own room."_

            "It's my own room, as you just stated, and I will sleep wherever the hell I want to!"

            "Not because of me, you won't!" They were angry now; all the nerves of the evening forced upon them and out into this shouting match of two strong wills.

            "I damn well will sleep on the floor if that's what I want to do.  You will sleep on that bed and-."

            "You can't just order me to sleep someplace.  If you could do that, you could order me to sleep on the bed **with you."  Silence filled the room for a moment after her words, and then both rushed to be the first to break it.**

            "There is no way I am letting a guest of mine sleep on the floor."

            "Well, whatever you may think of me, I am not the type of person who comes into someone's house and kicks them out of their own bed.  I won't do it!"

            "Too bad!" he roared.  Both stopped yelling in order to take a breath.  "I will sleep on this side.  You will sleep on that side."  He pointed to the sides of the room beside the bed, casting a spell to make make-shift beds for both of them.

            "Fine," she replied.

            "Fine!" he snapped back.  They gave each other good night glares and rolled in their covers to face the opposite walls of the room, both invisible to the other because of the enormous, empty bed between them.

            Hermione woke a few hours later to hear a fierce rain beating on the top of the roof.  Her mind was trying to tell her that there was something significant about this, but she was really too tired to think about it.  Analyses could wait until the morning.  She turned, hearing the soft sounds of the other person in the room sleeping peacefully, then relaxed and fell back into a deep slumber.

            Snape, being the light and paranoid sleeper that he was, had heard the rain the moment it began.  Damn it.  Unless it was a short storm they might be stuck here for a while.  He sighed and pulled the covers up closer to him.  He'd think about it in the morning.

            Morning broke, much to the annoyance of the two sleepers.  Even more annoying, daybreak heralded not the glorious sunshine both wished, but a continuance of the heavy rainstorm which had begun a few hours earlier.  Hermione rubbed sleep out of her eyes, grabbed her glasses, and joined Severus in his contemplation of the rivulets of water that bedecked the windowpane.  

            "So…what do we do?  We can't walk in this weather and transfigurations won't hold up in this heavy rain unless you want to put a lot of power into them.  But I can't miss work, or I'll be fired for a certainty.  And I highly doubt that you can stand to miss even a day of school."  The man beside her nodded silently.  Severus Snape was obviously not much of a morning person.  Hermione smiled and left him to wake up while she took a quick shower and brushed her teeth.

            Snape looked back as the door to the bathroom closed.  He hated mornings, and he really hated those who were cheerful and awake, but Miss. Granger hadn't been all that bad.  He really needed to find a solution to this problem.  He would be rather upset if the girl lost her job because of him.  Then it hit him and he felt extremely stupid.  Of course: the library card.  They could Portkey themselves out to the library, then he could Apparate them to their respective houses.  She had probably been expecting to ask Alby to Apparate her home as the librarian had done for him when he was too young to have a license.  Problem solved, Severus occupied himself in getting the stuff the girl had left in the guest room.  Luckily, Sir Snape hadn't realized that it was there and so it was untouched.  Her clothing was all folded neatly on the bed and her bag lay beside it so he gathered it up, muttering a spell to ensure that it was all dry.  She was out of the bathroom by then.  He appreciated her brevity as he handed her the clothes.  She was wearing the robe that he had transfigured.  

            "We can Portkey back to the library at nine-English time-that is.  So fifteen hours from when we got here, that makes the time we leave about two in the afternoon today."  He probably should have phrased it as a question rather than a command, but he was so used to issuing edicts and having them carried out that he didn't give it a second thought.  Hermione, however, was sick of being treated like a lackey, and Severus Snape had just pushed all the wrong buttons.

            "And if I don't wish to?  After all, if we aren't certain that the timing is correct or if Alby isn't in at the exact moment we Portkey, we will be bounced back to wherever people go when they try to incorrectly Portkey someplace."

            "Do try to be at least a little competent.  We can leave at half past two if you are so frightened of screwing up the timing."

            "Whatever, so long as it gets me away from _you soon as possible."  Hermione infused as much distaste as she could into the sentence, and then pointed to the bathroom, a silent order that he go shower so that she could change in peace.  Snape moved towards her so that he towered over the petite girl, then brushed past her with an air that told her he was very angry.  _

            No one had questioned Severus's judgment in a long time and the thought of the diminutive snip in his bedroom doing so made him furious.  Imagine, someone who did nothing but research stuff such as cauldron-width all day telling _him that there was something at fault with his plans.  Severus took a moment to let that thought sink in, and he almost cursed as the heavy droplets of water hit his body.  Had he really become so power drunk that he was unwilling to take advice or listen to other's concern?  He knew damned well that that was the way to corruption and he needed it to stop immediately.  He realized to that no one had said anything against his actions because they were all too awed by him.  If Minerva was still alive, she would have played the part of Devil's Advocate beautifully, but Remus, admirable Deputy Headmaster though he was, was simply too shy to ever vehemently disagree with him.  And he could not afford to have anyone else in the wizarding world catch him in a blatant error.  But Granger…yes, she had no problem with telling him when she thought he was wrong.  She would not go to the papers with stories, and her opinions were actually, though he would die rather than admit it, quite valid.  Perhaps if they could meet to discuss issues on which he was uncertain._

            Once he was finished, he crept out of the bathroom, unsure of where she was.  She sat on a corner of his bed, looking over some papers she must have had in her bag.

            "Miss. Granger?  I was wondering if you would like to meet me for lunch or coffee some time next week?"  He kept his voice even and calm.

            "Why?"  Her short reply was sharp and skeptical.  Decades of lying compelled him to be honest.

            "I find myself unable to seek advice from others.  Experience has taught me that this is the way to dissolution and I have no wish to be any worse than I already am.  Remus is unable to stand up to me, and there aren't many people in Britain who would hear the Headmaster of Hogwarts say or do something wrong and be able to speak up or not go to the tabloids.  Believe it or not, I trust you to speak freely and to keep quiet," he explained in a flat monotone, watching her face closely for a sign of acceptance or rejection, but there was none.

            "Fine.  Shall we begin now?" she asked in as expressionless a voice as he had used.  Snape found that rather curious.  

            "As we eat breakfast, if that is all right with you."

            "Don't eat breakfast."

            "But you hardly ate dinner, either.  Half a sandwich and a few mouthfuls of salad, and you expect me to believe that you are full?" he demanded.

            "I am.  And its none of your damn business what I eat.  In don't like to eat, is all. Not that I need explain myself to anyone, especially you."  Even so, Hermione's mind recalled bits of her dinner dates with Ron and Harry. 'Not hungry, 'Mione?" and 'Huh, you don't like how it tastes?' and 'Wow, you'd sure be a cheap date Hermione, you didn't eat anything at all, practically.'  A shadow of doubt passed over her face, not missed by Snape.  Truthfully, dinner last night had been the most she had eaten at one time for a while.  She just hadn't felt like eating for the past few months.  

            "Let's go into the kitchen.  One of the few things I really can make, other than salad dressing, is an omelet.  Maybe you could eat just a few bites and see if I have an over inflated opinion of my talent," he said gently.  He should have caught it last night when he had noticed her not eating very much.  Should have caught it when he was carrying her ashore from the moat and had noticed that she weighed remarkably little, even for her height.  He had been a teacher, not to mention Head of House, for enough years to recognize the signs of an eating disorder, and Granger was at the prime age and in the prime situation to contract one.  They were in the kitchens by the time he had finished the thought.  Hermione had been silent by his side, as deep in thought as he.

             They were both silent as he moved about the kitchen with precise grace, arranging this and that for the meal.  It was ready fairly quickly and contrary to his promise, Snape had set a full place setting for Hermione.  She didn't object.  They sat and Severus made sure that he was not looking at her as she picked up her fork.  She cut a slice of her omelet and held it up to her mouth.  Then she paused.  

            She couldn't believe it.  It was as though her mind was engaged in a civil war.  One part of her desperately wanted to prove that she was not sick, that she could eat as easily as any one, but the larger part of her was very convincingly telling her that she was full and didn't want to eat.  She tried so very hard that a small strangled sound escaped her lips and her gaze darted over to Snape to see if he had heard.  Luckily, he seemed completely engrossed in his own meal.  She attempted again to force herself to eat the piece of omelet, but she just couldn't.  She would throw up if she did, she was certain.  Finally, she put down her fork and lifted the napkin from her lap, when a strong hand grasped her wrist.  

            "No."

            "I'm sorry, I'm just really not hungry, and as I said, not really a breakfast person either."  She smiled brightly at him to prove just how normal she was, not realizing how manic it looked.

            "You are going to eat **one bite of that omelet.  Just one, and then we can go find the library."  She thought for a few moments.  She didn't not eat because she thought she was too fat or would get fat if she ate.  She had simply, or perhaps not so simply, convinced herself that this limiting of her food intake was the best way to control her sorry life.  And now she could not unconvince herself.  She had been able to eat a little last night, and at the library under Alby's watchful eyes, but she was now punishing herself for those pathetic lapses in routine.  Her hand was shaking erratically as she picked up the fork and she swallowed convulsively at the thought of eating.  N o, she thought.  I will not allow this to happen.  I will control my life by controlling this impulse to control my eating.  She wasn't certain whether the thought made any sense, but as long as she got the food in her mouth she didn't care.  She carefully and deliberately placed the bite in her mouth and carefully and deliberately chewed.  She swallowed and sat for a moment, then bolted from the table so fast not even Snape was able to stop her.**

            "Hermione!"  That voice had commanded her for seven years and she obeyed out of habit.  She forced herself to return to the table repeating a mantra to herself: it is not the end of the world that I broke the pattern, it is not the end of the world that I broke the pattern.  She broke off suddenly as she realized that she had been speaking aloud.  She was beyond mortified.  She looked at her former Potions teacher.

            "I-."

            "There are some books I think you will enjoy in the library.  A few may even help you with the research you are doing for me.  And in half an hour, you are going to eat something else."  There was no discussion in the voice, for all the friendliness that was in it as well.  Hermione just nodded and followed him down a long hallway she did not recall having seen before.

            Hermione quickly forgot her embarrassment and even her problem when they reached the grand double doors of the Snape library.  A gasp burst from her lips as she took in a private library that was as close to the National Library of Magick as it could get in size.  

            "There are some muggle books in here as well- I put my personal collection in when I inherited this place, although to the intense disagreement of the shelves.  Feel free to browse and read what you like.  I am going to sit over here and do some administrative paperwork I've been meaning to do."  Hermione nodded distractedly at him as she practically pushed past the tall man to get to all the books.  He settled down in a comfortable armchair, Slytherin green, and prepared to go over next year's class list of First-years and a few changes that his professors had suggested.

            Half an hour later, he looked over at the girl with the impeccable timing that made him the Potions Master he was.  She had a good innate sense of timing as well.  He could tell from the way she shifted in the loveseat and snuck glances at him, hoping against hope that he had forgotten his promise.  

            "Do you like fruit, Miss. Granger?"  Her eyes went wide and she frowned.

            "I really don't-."

            "Well, now would be a good time to learn an appreciation for it. "  He _accio'd some delicious cut-up cantaloupe from the kitchens along with two forks. And two plates.  He divided it unequally, giving himself a much larger portion and pushed the other plate to Hermione.  She took a deep breath and gathered all her willpower.  It took a moment, but she finally began to eat.  Although he was careful not to stare, he could see her lips moving over and over in encouragement of herself.  He admired her determination.  He was done a long time before she had managed to choke down the last bite of it.  She looked over at him, her gaze an odd combination of challenge and vulnerability wishing for reassurance.  He smiled at her enough to give the assurance, but not enough to arouse the sharp tongue he had encountered far too much in the past two days.  And would encounter many times more, if she really had agreed to his plan._

            "You will still join me for lunch next…does next Tuesday work for you?"

            "Yes."  She made no foolish attempt to pretend to consult a calendar or schedule.  He had never understood or liked women who felt that they had to do this to keep up appearances. 

            "What book were you reading?" he inquired, gesturing at the leather-bound volume which sat behind her on the love seat.  Her eyes brightened a little bit and her excitement was obvious.

            "It's by Marceau, the French wizard Arithmancer, and denotes his explorations into the fields of Arithmancy and Potions in their conjunction and possible uses together.  It's really fascinating.  I wish I had gone into a field like this."  Her last sentence held a world of regret, so sad coming from lips so young.

            "There is none."

            "Hm?"

            "His work never progressed beyond the theoretical and no one has yet, to my knowledge, taken a great interest in the multitude of possibilities this hybrid field offers us.  Besides, both subjects take an enormous amount of power and concentration: that which few witches and wizards have in any great quantity."

            "Have you?" she asked eagerly.

            "I dabbled, a bit.  I was busy with…other things in the years immediately before the first reign of Voldemort, was too worried between, and was busy during the second reign.  Now, the time in which I ought to be able to do things such as this, I find myself supervising Quidditch matches and being the shoulder upon which frustrated adolescents cry."  He smiled in acknowledgement of her quirked eyebrow.  "Perhaps not, but I still have not the time to research and explore this topic, fascinating as it may be."

            "Hogwarts was looking to expand its curriculum for the top students, no?  I recall there being only one or two courses which allowed freedom of exploration and thus challenged me."  He was a bit puzzled at this seemingly random change of topics, but answered nonetheless.

            "Yes, there has been pressure on me from students, parents, and faculty alike, but it is near impossible to find either a teacher of such expertise that students feel free while still being under their jurisdiction, or a good teacher who is willing to learn along with their students and still able provide structure.  But I fail to see how this has anything to do with what we were doing…?"

            "It doesn't actually.  Sorry, just felt the need to satisfy my curiosity.  So, I'm sure you are aware that the Unforgivable Potions were created by the side of what we perceive as Light, although their powers of destruction far outstrip those of the Curses.  After all, they can be given to anyone to accomplish their means."

            "It is a little known fact, Miss. Granger, that the Potions in fact are able to be used only by those who have the inner power to brew them themselves.  I know," he spoke forcefully as her mouth opened," only because the one text that contains this information is an old family heirloom."  Hermione considered this information for a moment.

            "I didn't know that there were any English wizards involved in the creation of the Potions.  I thought it was only the French.  And does this mean that _Ron could have made those potions?  It took __me almost our entire seventh year to brew them."  Snape was much amused at the well-hidden dismay in the former Head Girl's voice._

            "My mother was a Deucelle.  Her great times many grandfather was one of the most influential members of the committee that created the Potions.  And although I know it may be difficult to process to your ego, you were not the only person in my classroom who had potential.  Granted, you had more than most, but with some application Ronald Weasley, Harry Potter, and Draco Malfoy, as well, incidentally, could certainly have done what you did.  There is nothing incontrovertibly unique about your feat."  He remembered well what arrogance had cost him and so many others, and had made it his mission in life to quash it as soon as and completely as possible. 

            "I was not labouring under any such delusions, Professor.  I was merely shocked to hear you admit this, as it means praising three Gryffindor students in your own field and I don't recall hearing even a word as a student.  My comment was simply because I wanted to hear you say that yes, Ron was most certainly a decent potions brewer.  I did _not wish to hear you cast wild allegations on my ego." She gave a small sniff and returned to her book, determined to ignore the Potions Master until it was time to leave.  Then she felt something she had not felt in a long time.  Her stomach growled, loudly this time.  Admittedly it had sometimes, like last night, grumbled softly when she had gone  a little too long without food, or when she was too stressed to remember to control herself, but she had not felt genuine hunger in a long time.  Also, she found this sudden reversal of what she had forced herself to believe was an eating disorder very strange.  All the books her mother had made her read as a teenager about stuff such as this described the recovery process as long, slow, and physically and mentally painful.  So how was she now cured?_

            "Psychosomatic effect of temporary depression.  Magick causes processes like this to be cured once a certain block in a person is removed which causes the illness, like depression.  It is one of the incredibly odd, but certainly beneficial, things to being a witch or wizard.  It is the reason you don't see too many wizard alcoholics.  A person is easily cured if the block can be discovered and removed, although it can take even as much as years to find the block.  You are lucky."  Hermione was shocked.  And very disappointed in herself.  How could she have not read this somewhere?  "It is not found in books, Miss. Granger.  Wizarding culture is unfortunately not so understanding of those not born to it, and what muggleborns do not come in knowing, they must find out only by experience."  Hermione was so relieved that she didn't have to worry about yet something else that made her life crappy.  Although the thought of how crappy her life was no longer sent her spiraling into despair as it had.

            "I still feel really stupid; that it happened at all, that I didn't know how it was to be cured the magick way, and that it was so ridiculously easy to cure.  It feels as though I should have known and done it at once."

            "You may feel that way at the moment, but I know that you have a sound head on your shoulders and a little reflection will show you how futile and faulty this thought process is."

            "No doubt," she responded dryly.  There was a pause in the room as each tried to figure out what ought to happen next, but it was not so uncomfortable.  Snape gestured for Hermione to pick up her belongings, including the book by Marceau, and he showed her back to the kitchens.

            "Its almost one anyways.  We can lunch, then Portkey to the library at half past two."

            "That'll be fine."  Hermione was back to being all amiability. 

They had the conversation that Snape had wanted.  Hermione provided some interesting insights as to how he dealt with certain things, and his dry wit had kept her laughing all the while she was eating.  Although her body no longer detested her intake of food and her mind told her that it was all right, Snape had told her that it still might be a few days until she was back to her normal self.  And gained weight, he had added with a look at her form which had sent a shiver up her spine. Gross, Snape, professor, hated teacher…but no matter what she told herself, it didn't change that her opinion of Severus Snape had drastically changed within the past three days.

            Severus looked at the girl sitting across from his, toying idly with the silver teacup.  She was clearly lost in her thoughts.  The conversation that they had been having on the hexing of sundry staircases in the castle had faded gradually as they both felt slightly sleepy after eating.  And neither had gotten all that much rest thanks to the resident specter's appearance.  The hand that was not on the cup brushed through her hair, pulled back into the same frumpy style he had first seen her in.  He had honestly mistaken her for someone much older, and not intellectually.  He had seen people make bad mistakes after graduation, gods knows he had certainly made a terrible one, but no one had ever thought it of the shining Gryffindor Head Girl.  If only Minerva had still been alive to advise her.  While it was well-known by most wizards that the first job offers were always the worst, the muggle mindset was obviously to grab it before it goes.  A mentality which had sadly cost her two years of her youth.  Although if he looked a little closer he could still see the beautiful young women she would have been, and could still be.  Beautiful?  Where had that come from?  While he was by no means blind to the changes that occurred in his students towards their later years of school, he had never once entertained a lustful thought towards any of them, even once they had graduated.  Hell, he didn't even want to see most of them again, and Granger had been no exception.  And yet here she was, seated across from him at his own kitchen table.  He glanced at his watch and realized that it was a few minutes after the time that they had meant to leave.  He cleared his throat to bring the girl out of her reverie.

            "Miss. Granger, I do believe that it is time that we are able to Portkey to the Library."  She looked at him disjointedly for a moment and then stood up, cleaning her dishes in a few moments as he waited for her.  His own had already been taken care of.  Once she was finished, she dug into her bag for her library card, made sure that she had all of her belongings, and looked at him to make sure that he held his own in his hands.  They had agreed that he go first, so he spoke the words that keyed this particular type of Portkey and vanished.  A moment later Hermione followed and the house was once again silent and empty.

**Okay, well before the comments come rolling in about how unrealistically and ridiculously I portrayed anorexia; I would like to tell y'all I agree.  See, the story wanted me to put it in, but I didn't, so we compromised by getting rid of it as swiftly as possible, but I think it made it really, well, dumb.  Feel free to tell me what you think.  I know there are no lemons, but I wanted to make it at least a slightly realistic relationship, and I didn't want Hermione to be a slut.  I'd love it if you _reviewed!  Immense thanks to all those who did, the muses were very amusing with their happy antics._**

**Helena: Yeah, Snape's mother was a character, so he tells me.  Its actually a really, grand and elegant house…just cruel.  Sorry not much happened with the ghost, Severus wouldn't let it****J**

**CookSS****: Thanks ever so, I know this isn't that fast an update, but its probably the fastest I'll ever be able top do because of love and also because I always re-check my story and try not to be hasty while writing.**

**Janet: Very glad that you like it, hope you like this chapter as well.**

**Quillusion****:  I'm not a big fan of Disney, but yes, the reverse of the enchanted objects in the Beast's castle *is* an apt description of Snape's house:D  Actually, though I don't want to give too much away, the next chapter does have something with Hermione's boss in it, although I hadn't thought he was going to make another appearance.  If only I had control!  The muses thanked you for the Christmas cake and began to flit about excitedly.  I'm also wondering if you are continuing your awesome, awesome story Soul Searching? Please do****J  **

**Madeleine Jete: I am so happy that you take the time to review after each chapter (don't worry, I know its hard to do sometimes), it really means a *lot* to me because it shows that someone actually continues to read the story.  And I am also very happy that you like it!**

**Kari:  Whoah!  Yes, I want them to get together as well, but the muses have the final say…;)**

**Riley L. Crockett: Oh, yes, I was at a party last night with some of my guy friends, so unSnape-like its sad.  Oh, well, maybe someday.  Until then, I hope you enjoy the story, although keep in mind that I tried not to make Snape too OOC, he can still be a prick****J**

**MadAboutHarry****: I wish I knew what you meant about the intelligent conversation…*frowns and wishes she had a brain*  Glad that you want more, and I think there might be more fun at Snape Manor, although I'm not sure.**

**Deritine****: Hehe, no lemons quite yet, but I think they'll be coming.  Glad you agree with my decision to not make them jump each other immediately.  *muses poke her* Oh, allright: their decision!**

**Itybity83: Wow, well, here is more:D**

**Liquid Euphoria: By the way, that is an awesome screen name.  **

**V-Volatile: Well, make hotmail get better so I can get my Raven Mooore.  You are always excused from reviewing if you are writing since you are so awesome.  And he won't always be so polite, believe me, but I am trying to make it realistic, sorry, hon.  Where *did* you get your sn?  But see, Jonsi's gay, right?  So the other one, the cuter one, definitely.  Anyhow, more will be on the way, I may have you read it over first:D  Happy New Years, didn't call you in case you were doing something else.**

**Bessorla****: I'm ecstatic that you think its original, and although I do have another romance fic where Hermione is a student, I tried not to make it quick or trivial.  Harry and Ron haven't told me what they think, but that might be something I'd like to put in.  Although I don't like to spoil the plot (what little of it the muses deigned to tell me), no, neither Ron nor Harry have romantic feelings for her, sorry.  However, there will still be a fair amount of angst if I know my muses.**

**Jessicat1982: Very glad you like it****J**

**Orenda****: I try very hard not to make a lot of mistakes, although I'm not so sure I succeed when it comes to logic, so I would really appreciate your pointing out any errors you find to me.  Thanks for the comment!**

**Arcee****: Well, I think it will be; thank you for the encouragement.**

**Military_Brat****: Woohoo, my muses love it that you think its creative, and you're right; he won't be sappy nice if I can help it.**

**Dawn: Thank you very much for the support:D**

**Photis****: Thanks for the holiday wishes, and I certainly doubt my muses would let me abandon it.**

**Destructogirl****:  So here is a little bit more****J**

**Veresna**** Ussep: Well, I came close, but not exactly that. Really thought about it, though:D**

**Slytherian**** Angle:  Hehe, yes, but Severus is all protective.  Hope you liked this.**

**Pidgie****: I write the story as it goes, and post when a chapter is done, so here is the next one.  **


	4. I'm Looking Through You

**_Disclaimer: Goodness, I wouldn't dream of taking credit for JK Rowling's wonderful work.  Well, perhaps in my dreams…_**

**I think that I have gone over and proofread this chapter, even more than once, actually, yet I somehow can't really muster the energy to do it again and double check.  It's one in the morning and I can't log onto the internet to do my review thanking, so I'm going to post this tomorrow afternoon I suppose.  This isn't coherent (the authors note, the story I wrote at a reasonable time. I think.) and I'm sorry about that.  Again, I love all who reviewed/will review.  By the way, seeing as how I post at such irregular intervals, if anyone would be interested in my creating a mailing list, please either review and tell me so or email me at amariran@yahoo.com  Almost done with chapter five, but exams start Wed. and no telling when I will have time to do stuff.  Please have fun reading it:D**

I'm Looking Through You

Hermione emerged in the shaded lobby area of the Library and immediately bumped into her old Professor.

            "Sorry, sir."

            "Miss. Granger, I've rather given up hope of you _not stumbling into me."  Hermione began to blush then realized that that was rather rude of him._

            "Please forgive me that fact that you are **always in my way."**

            "I most certainly am not!  You are simply an unnaturally klutzy person.  Believe me, I would know after having witnessed it for seven long years inside my classroom," he sneered.

            "I don't think so, Professor.  I rather think you were blind if you missed the fact that I was absolutely _perfect in your class."  He had goaded her into screaming yet again._

            "If your definition of perfect, Miss. Granger, includes turning yourself into a cat…" He trailed off tauntingly.

            "That was most certainly not in your classroom!" Outraged.  Then softer," You knew about that?"

            "Of course I did. Did you imagine that I completely missed the fact that precious ingredients went missing from my stores?  I noticed your plunderings in your seventh year as well, but the Headmaster assured me that all was under control in both situations.  However, when Poppy had trouble figuring out what you had done to turn yourself into a cat, she called me in."

            "You bastard!  You could have given me the antidote!!"

            "Hmmm, yes, I could have.  But why _would I?"  Hermione had never in her life been at a loss for words and she wasn't about to let it happen now.  She opened her mouth to let out a scathing reprimand, when their fight was interrupted by Alby's sharp voice._

            "Severus!  Hermione!  Quit acting like children and lower your voices.  I shouldn't have to remind you that this is a library.  I will assume that you two are here to continue the research?"  His voice turned bland at the last statement.  Suddenly, two pairs of furious eyes turned to him as one.  The mouth below the glittering chocolate ones spoke first.

            "About that, Alby-."

            "Did you really find it funny to almost get us killed-."  Snape cut in.

            "Do you realize that I very nearly lost my job-."

            "That I have incredibly important things that I have to do-."

            "That neither one of you has had a vacation in two years, I would wager, and apparently still haven't had one?"  Alby's voice was even and unrepentant, and both Severus and Hermione realized that they would never get him to even so much as apologize.  Severus sighed in resignation and nodded a curt farewell to the librarian.  Hermione did the same, and then the man took her arm gingerly and Apparated them both.

***

            "Here, this is my flat.  Thank you and I'm sorry that I…imposed upon you."  Their earlier fight was not yet forgotten, and Hermione's voice was clipped.  Severus stared up at the ugly tan building.  Dirt ran rampantly across the flat façade, and he was hard-pressed to imagine the girl she had been in Hogwarts settling in such a dreary dump as this.  And he had thought himself beyond surprises.  Hermione followed his disdainful gaze but refused to be ashamed of her living quarters.  Well, she was, but she refused to let him see it.  "I would ask you to come up for a drink or something, but I'm afraid your delicate sensibilities would curl up at the sight of the stairwells."  She infused as much of the anger that she held for letting herself be this as she could into her cold invitation.

            "_My delicate sensibilities?  Child, I saw gruesome murders before you were even born.  I saw men laughing at brutalities so horrible your mind couldn't even begin to imagine them."  His crooning voice was meant to unsettle her. It didn't have quite that effect._

            "You forget who you're speaking to, Professor.  I have, in fact, seen them.  If you don't mind, I will bid you a good day."  Her voice was flat and formal and he could see that she had forced all emotion from her eyes.  How could he have been so damned careless as to forget that this was not just anyone he had been speaking to, but Hermione Granger?  He remembered seeing her standing tall in the face of the jeers of the Death Eater's surrounding her.  She was right- she had seen a lot.  Not as much as he, but that was as it should be.  He rarely found himself in such a position, but he now found it necessary to provide her with a heart-felt apology.

            "Please forgive me, Miss. Granger.  I had indeed forgotten to whom I was speaking, although it was an uncalled for remark in any event.  I'm sure that you're apartment is fine."

            "I don't want platitudes, Professor.  I didn't want them then and I don't want them now.  I have a great deal of work to do for you now, so unless you don't want it, I suggest we end this conversation."

            "Tuesday, 11 o clock!" he called after her.

            "Tuesday, 12 pm sharp," she answered firmly.  "Here."  With the final word, she vanished through the grimy Plexiglas door.  Snape grumbled a bit as he stepped back around the corner and into some shadows to Apparate back to Hogsmeade.

***

            Hermione herself detested the stairwell of her apartment.  It was filled with scents, the origin of which she rather thought she was better off not knowing. Whatever they were, though, they always managed to fill her with renewed loathing of her situation.  She refused to let it get to her today.  She was going to go up to her apartment, change her clothing and run to her job.  She would be almost two hours late for her check-in time, but that should be negligible considering she was doing a project which required external resources.  She quickly opened the door to her flat with the key she fumbled from her bag and entered the small set of rooms.  Just a bedroom, a bathroom, and a tiny kitchen/sitting area.  Not particularly attractive, although she made sure that they were spotless.  She was rather relieved that Snape had refused to come up.  Upon reflection, there really wasn't much of anything in her bachelorette fridge and cupboards.  

            Hermione grabbed the first thing that came into her hands when she reached into her closet and quickly changed.  She brushed her hair and teeth again, avoiding her detested mirror, then gathered her things upon again, double checked that she had her wand and went running off to work.

***

            Hermione was finished.  She was absolutely God damned finished with this stupid, pathetic little man who thought that he had the right to boss her around.  Boss her, yes, as he was her employer, but the man was beyond odious.  From the glint in his pale, watery eyes she knew that he had been waiting for a chance like this for a long time.  Waiting until she was depressed and desperate.  Waiting until the perfect time to tell her this.

            "Why Miss. Granger.  Late again, I see."  It was the first time she had ever been late.  "Well, this being the third mark on your card, I do believe that I will have the pleasure of dismissing you.  Step into my office."  He beckoned her into the small, close space, shutting the door firmly behind her frantically arguing form.  

            "But sir, you can't fire me!"

            "Oh, but I can, Miss. Granger, I can. And believe me, I want to." He smiled and Hermione cursed those thin lips.

            "Sir, please, it was hardly a misdemeanor; Professor Snape is the only job I currently have and he knows that I was researching for him."

            "So…you don't want to lose your job, Miss. Granger?"  Hermione would have gotten the oily tone two years ago, when she and Harry and Ron were always on the lookout for tricks, but she simply rushed to assure him of her earnestness.     

            "No, sir.  I'll do anything if you don't fire me.  I promise I'll never be late again and all my assignments-."  She was cut off by a smug word from her boss

            "Too bad."

            "But, sir…"

            "Well…we could possibly work something out- between you and me."  Hermione was at a loss.  She had not actually been propositioned in order to keep her job, had she?  A greasy chuckle told her she had spoken aloud.  "Oh, but if you want to keep it, you will.  Too bad you're a mudblood.  I don't like to soil myself, but I suppose you'll have to do.  Besides, perhaps I can be more…free.  So now, you will do **anything that I want you to, Granger, if you want to keep the job."  The man's lascivious sneer clearly told her what he had in mind.**

            "Then I quit," Hermione said determinedly.  Her statement was apparently cause for another bout of odious laughter.  

            "You could Miss. Granger.  But think about the fact that you have just wasted two years of your life at this company.  Two years at a job that not only will give you no recommendations, but will be sure to tell all the other companies that your work simply wasn't up to snuff.  We _did try to be as lenient as possible, but eventually we had to face the facts that you must have cheated your way through your high marks at school. Or perhaps you slept with your teachers?  It wouldn't be so surprising, after all, as you offered to sleep with your boss for a promotion.  That was the final straw in our decision to let you go.  Now after all that, there won't be a single job of any sort in the wizarding world for you.  Your options will be to forsake magick forever, which indeed would please me to no end, or to seek employment where no one cares for qualifications.  I'm sure even weak little mind can figure out what sort of work __that would be."  The man grinned superciliously at her.  His features really couldn't carry it off, and even in the midst of her life being torn  to bits, she almost burst into laughter.  Or perhaps because of it.  _

            "I won't…I can't…but…"

            "Yes, well I do believe that I will be kind and generous."  Hermione was not so stupid as to believe there was any truth in his words.  "I will allow you a day to think over my offer.  However, one second after your job starts, I will begin writing my report to those above.  Have a lovely day, Miss. Granger."

            "You fucking bastard!  You know damn well that this choice is-."  All of Hermione's rage bubbled out.  Gavin's eyes glinted warningly.

            "I _would be careful about what you say were I you, Miss. Granger."  Hermione had no choice but to heed his warning.  Pressing her lips together and biting the inside of her lip so that she soon tasted the sour sweet of her own blood, she got out of the room as fast as she could._

"I'm letting you go see if you can find a solution, but only because I know you can't.  Your life is mine now, Granger."

            Hermione practically broke into a run at his words, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.  She somehow got out of the building without throwing up in Gavin's putrid, cadaverous face.  Once out into the air of a muggy London, she took deep breaths of the early summer air.  The smog caused her to choke and she ended up being the object of stares from several passers-by.  When she recovered, she realized she wasn't certain where she was to go.  No, she definitely did.  There was only one person who almost always made everything right.  She stepped into the shadows most used by those of the office for Apparation.  

***

            Severus Snape sighed as he relaxed into the comfortable chair behind his desk.  He had no need of freshening up, as everything he had wanted was at his own house, so he had enjoyed the morning walk up from Hogsmeade and told Remus what had happened.  He had rather enjoyed Remus's reaction as to where, or rather with whom he had spent the night.  He had, however, assured the Gryffindor that all was safe for Miss. Granger.  There was a hefty stack of paper on his desk, although he had not been gone all that long.  He swore the fucking things bred themselves right there on the top of his escritoire.  Well, there was nothing for it but to get on with it.  At least he had made some headway with paperwork this morning while Miss. Granger read Marceau.  She would most likely be finished with the book by Tuesday, when they met for lunch, and he was sure she wouldn't mind relinquishing it to him then.  Thoughts of Miss. Granger quickly turned to thoughts of the woman walking down the staircase of his ancestral home…  He knocked those thoughts out of his head as soon as he realized consciously that he was fantasizing over a former student.  That was sick and depraved.  And he couldn't help but wonder what she would like walking down those stairs in, well, less than she had been wearing.  Would her neck be as pretty as it had-fuck!  He wasn't sure what had gotten into him.  He shifted a little uncomfortably in the soft chair, picked up his paper and set his quill to dictation, ready for a few hours of blessed mindlessness.

***

            Harry Potter was relaxing; not an occupation all that common for him.  The boy, really a man now, was constantly on the go between Quidditch practices and games and his girlfriend, a Charms teacher at Beauxbaxtons.  He had never thought of the implications of magick on long-distance relationships until he had met Mireille.  They saw each other almost everyday after his practices and she came to as many of his games as possible.  He didn't think she knew, but he was going to propose soon.  In fact, he wanted to get the ring today; the reason he had told her that he had some urgent business he had to get taken care of.  He wanted someone else's opinion, but Ron was off in America and he wasn't very sure where to find him.  Besides, although Ron was doing pretty well with his own steady girlfriend, Melanie was as different from Mireille as one could get.  And both were a far cry from Hermione, thought Harry wryly.  He really regretted that they weren't able to get together very often, but she was always working.  He and Ron had begun to feel as though she was embarrassed, but the idea had seemed so absurd.  Imagine, Hermione, the brainy, crazy girl who had blossomed in their sixth and seventh years, embarrassed about something.  Why, her courageous role in the downfall of Voldemort would put such a thought in the dust.  Still, there had been something more than subtly off about her in the past few months.  He knew that she regretted her job, no matter that she didn't say anything, but he also knew that Hermione would perceive quitting as failure, something she avoided at all costs.  Well, he'd deal with Hermione next week when they got together for their monthly dinner.  Today, he was going to find the prettiest ring the wizarding world had to offer for his hopefully soon-to-be fiancé.  Whistling, Harry cleaned his juice glass with a flick of his wand and stretched in the golden sunshine of a late morning in May in the English countryside.  He had to walk out in his yard to get out of the anti-Apparition wards that had been a necessity when he had bought the house.  He locked his door and looked pensively down his shade-dappled gravel driveway, only to discover a shaking heap just where the wards ended.  He muttered a quick eagle-eye spell.  HERMIONE!!

***

            Hermione was firmly ensconced in a cozy chair in Harry's living room and had a cup of ice water half-drunk before she was able to speak sensibly.  Harry had the good sense not to wonder aloud at this uncharacteristic display of emotion from such a self-reliant person.  He just kneeled before his crying friend, muttering soothing noises until she had calmed down enough to talk.

            "I'm so sorry" were the first words out of her mouth.  She went on quickly.  "I don't know what came over me…you aren't even usually home right now, and since you are I'm sure that you have someplace to go.  It's just a little thing with my-hip-job."  She hiccupped in the middle of her explanation and stopped, waiting for the hiccups to go away.  Harry took advantage of her moment of silence.

            "Shit, Hermione, anything that can make you act like this is well worth my time no matter what I was doing.  And I know Ron would feel the same.  We are still your best friends, 'Mione.  I know that we've grown apart, but nothing will ever change that.  I'm going to pull up a chair and you are going to clear off your glasses and tell me what happened and we are going to plan a horrible, gory death for whoever made you cry like this.  Race you to find the most painful curse..."  Harry smiled at the more composed woman who would always be his best friend and handed her a handkerchief.  After all, how could he forget someone who had saved his life over and over again since he was eleven?

            Hermione managed a smile as she took the square of cloth, but it quickly faded when she thought about all the things Gavin thought he could do to her.  Harry didn't seem to notice.  Severus would've.  Where the _hell had that come from?  She pushed the errant thought from her mind and focused on telling Harry all of Gavin's threats.  Harry frowned when she was done._

            "I'm not so sure whether he was bluffing or not.  I've been more involved with the wizard worl than you have, but I still don't know how possible this is.  I think we need to find someone who was born to the wizarding world.  An adult, preferably.  Arthur has enough on his hands, Molly is busy with Bill and his wife's new baby, and Dumbledore is off with Ron in American on Wheezes business…"  Harry trailed off in puzzlement.  Then they both spoke at the same time.

            "Severus."

            "Sirius."

            They looked at each other in confusion and amusement.

            "Where did Snape come from?  You have to admit that going to my godfather makes sense to me, at least, but our old Potions Professor?  Although he is the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and a damn good man to have at your back in a fight.  Hm."

            Hermione wondered precisely what she should tell Harry.  Would he be angry at her for spending the night at Severus's house?  No, that was ridiculous; not only had they not done anything, but she was a grown woman and responsible for her own choices.  "Well, he commissioned a research project about my work with the Unforgivable Potions and their correlation with the curses and how I used them when we were planning the defeat of Voldemort.  Looking back at actions that simply seemed intuitive at the time is really fascinating.  For instance, did you know-."  Harry started laughing and Hermione stopped, realizing that she had slipped back into lecture-the-boys-in-the-vain-hope-they-get-something-in-their-brains mode.  She grinned back at him, relieved that she could still find humor in the situation.  She could only imagine her reaction if Severus had not helped her break the block to her depression.  "Anyhow, that's why he popped in my mind.  And because…" Hell, he was her best friend.  She could tell him, right?  "I got stuck at his house last night.  It sounds really weird, and believe me, it was.  He managed to get us through his ant-Apparation wards but there was no way to get back out until the Library we got, er, thrown out of opened up again in the morning.  It was quite nice, actually."  Harry stared at her with a look she didn't understand.  She had half-expected revulsion or perhaps ridicule, but she wasn't sure about this pensive, thoughtful look her best friend fixed upon her.  "W-we, didn't sleep together or anything, Harry…"

            "Course not, 'Mione.  So that explains it, anyhow.  Well, I suppose it's off to Hogwarts then.  I doubt both of them will be available at the same time anyways.  Sirius's job with the DADA job keeps him pretty damn busy, not to mention Severus's Headmaster duties."  And he was back to the Harry she knew and loved.

            "You call him Severus?"

            "Sure, I have to see him a lot about different things…you know that I'm pretty active with politics.  I'm actually thinking about running for Minister when Arthur decides to retire.  It's a huge responsibility, I know, but it isn't as though I haven't had the weight of the wizarding world on my shoulders before. Though it was actually mostly you and Ron… Maybe I should think about a lesser job, instead…"  Harry had never had enough confidence in his abilities; he wasn't just posturing.

            "Potter, get yourself together and in a couple of years, I want seats in the Minister's box for the World Quidditch Cup!"  She mocked what she figured Ron would say.  Harry caught on and laughed.

            "Hermione, that might work better if you could stand to even watch a Quidditch game!"  She gave him a mock swat which he easily evaded.

            "So, shall we go?" she asked.  

            "Right now."  Harry set the glass she still held in her hand on his coffee table and pulled her out of the comfortable chair.  He frowned when he realized how light she was.

            "Later, Harry.  Let's just take care of this problem first," Hermione said firmly, nodding at the envelope she held as they walked out into the sunshine.  Harry nodded in silent agreement and they Apparated to Hogsmeade.

***

            The Three Broomsticks was an oasis in her memory; the place that she and Harry and Ron had frequented in their Seventh Year when Things Got Too Much.  Even now, the sight of Madam Rosmerta wiping countertops gave her a feeling of comfort.  They gave her a quick nod and walked out into the streets of Hogsmeade.  They didn't want to run into any students using their secret passages.  They made admirable time and almost before Hermione realized it, she was confronted with a sight she had not witnessed in the last two years and had not thought she would see again: The grand front of Hogwarts Castle.  The view still took her breath away with its majesty.  She remembered her first journey here and her very first thought: so this is where I belong…  And she remembered the carriage ride away into the vast future, feeling as though she was leaving a part of her.  Now that part was replaced and she was whole again.  She looked at Harry to see how it affected him, but she had forgotten that he came here often.  He was simply waiting patiently for her.  Once he had ascertained that she was ready to walk on, they walked past the lake and to the front door.  Hermione looked at Harry a little when the door opened wide for him, but he just shrugged at her.  

            "Sirius or Severus first?" he asked her.  She twisted her mouth in thought.

            "Sirius, I suppose."  Harry just nodded and they walked as one to the man's office.  Harry got there a step before Hermione and he knocked.  Once.  Twice.  Three times.  After each set of knocks, they waited for any sign of life in the office, any sound.  Juts as they were turning to head up to the Headmaster's office, they saw the man they were looking forward coming down the hall to them.  He caught sight of them and began to walk faster.

            "Oy, Harry!  Did you get the ring already?  I want to see it.  Hello, Mione, dear, how are you doing- off from work?  Everything all right then, guys?  Let's go into my office."  Both young adults followed him in as he undid the wards on the door, silent and slightly shell-shocked.  Sirius had that affect on people with his effusive and loud chatter.  Harry had privately decided it was a hidden effect of Azkaban and took it with good cheer.  After all, he loved his godfather.  It took Sirius a few moments to realize that he was the only one talking.  That was not unusual to him, however he also caught on that both Harry and Hermione seemed rather glum.  To put it mildly.  He broke off in the middle of a sentence when he saw the tear tracks on Hermione's face.

            "What's wrong, guys?  Something with 'Mione?"  Hermione nodded slowly, took a deep breath, and began her story.  Sirius sat in thought for a moment.  Then he looked up with an uncharacteristically sober face.  "Well, the truth is that, yes, the wizarding community, in Great Britain, at least, is so small that a person truly set on ruining you could do it with rumors.  But you'd still have your friends who know the truth, and you do have some friends in pretty high places," here Sirius looked meaningfully at Harry, who blushed, "Not to mention Arthur and even, I suppose, Severus."  Both men were slightly startled as Hermione shook her head in firm negation of the second.  

            "I don't want any of you to ask Snape about this, or even tell him.  I know I proposed going to see him before" she turned to her confused friend," But, well, I changed my mind.  This is much too embarrassing and unimportant and he just doesn't need to know."  She spoke firmly, adding to her self, plus I don't want him to know how truly screwed up my life is.  It would only make him think even less of her than he already did.  

            "So what are you going to do, Mione?"  Trust Sirius to get to the point.  

            "There's only one thing she can do; give her notice and hightail it out of there," Harry said firmly.  Godfather and son looked over at Hermione who had spoken so softly that neither could make out her words, even in as close quarters as Sirius's office was.  

            "I'm actually not certain I can," Hermione repeated a little more loudly.  

            "But 'Mione, you said yourself what he wants you to do."  Harry's voice was filled with revulsion.  

            "Yes, well, Harry, what else am I supposed to do?" Hermione snapped and jumped up out of the chair, running out of the office and then out of the castle into the deceptively fine day.  She should have known Harry would follow her.

            "Hermione Tricia Granger, you turn right around and I want you to listen closely to me.  You are not going to give up.  You don't know how to give up; I don't even think the phrase is in your mental dictionary.  Answer me this; did you give up when you stood in that circle of Death Eaters, watching them torture the muggles they captured?  Did you even give up when they began to torture you?  Now, I don't think you need me to give you the answer to that question.  No more shit, Hermione.  You're going to do what's right for you, and I'm not going to make that decision for you.  But I am going to tell you that you…are…not…fucking…giving…up."  Harry spaced his words out to give them more meaning.  Hermione stared at her best friend as though he had grown another head.  How foolish of her to forget the well of granite that lay beneath his normal calm exterior.  Harry meant what he was saying, and Hermione realized that he was right.  She didn't want to admit it, but he was.  It made her absolutely furious.  She took a deep breath, then expelled it.  Then another one.  By her fourth she began to feel lightheaded, but she wasn't any less angry.  

            "Harry, I understand what you are saying and I…may agree, but I need to sort this out on my own.  And right now, all I want to do is get out my wand and hex you into oblivion."  She spoke quietly, her voice shaking a little in the effort to control herself.  Harry, his own determination hidden once again, nodded and cringed a bit.  He and Ron had both managed to get on the bad side of Hermione's well-hidden temper, and neither was very eager to repeat the experience.  Most people didn't realize it, but Hermione made an even more formidable foe than he himself; something the Death Eaters that fateful night had discovered the hard way. 

            "I understand.  I'm going to go…talk to Sirius, now."  Harry made his way back to the castle as swiftly as he could while Hermione stalked away from it.  Once she was outside the ward, she took a deep breath in order to calm herself; it would be just the thing to splinch herself now.  She was in her apartment before she had even realized that she had walked there.  She sat on her sofa, stood up, paced the room a few times, sat down, stood up, walked to her kitchen, paced a while more, and, exhausted, sat on her counter.  She had known the answer even before she got to the flat.

**Okay, going to do this as fast as possible, as I must leave for Reading Day in less than half an hour.  I think I'll post this when I come home for lunch.  Please, please let me know whether you have enjoyed this story or not and what is or is not working for you; feedback will set the muses doing pretty little aerial loops, which rally amuses the author.  So, for my review replies: Much thanks to my anonymous reviewer (are you the same anonymous reviewer as before) and tkmd for their words of encouragement.  **

**Deritine****: Your comments were interesting, but I have a feeling that the muses in my head really prefer to take things slowly, and they put lots of odd twists in it. Thanks:D**

**MadAboutHarry****: Thanks for clarifying that.  Hmm, I don't know whether its foreshadowing or not, the muses put it in there.  I'm glad you like, but I wil warn you that after this chapter, your internal vision of Hermione is going to get twisted even further, and then, if the muses let me, it'll go back**

**Veresna**** Ussep: Goodness, it was difficulot enough even finding a slice of time that would allow me to acess my reviews and post.  Grr.  Oh, yes, that is in your story; I story for which sequel I am wating glued to my…textbook, yes that's it.  I;m studying not reading wonderfully written fanfics.  I'm not so sure when or if or what on earth the muses want; I really do have no control over this story.**

**Madeleine Jete: Yeah, I know how that goes; don't worry about reviewing, I just enjoy knowing that I'm not writing (a fanfiction story, not my personal stuff) to no one.  And the feedback you give is rather useful.  That's true, I didn't really think about the other eating disorders.  Thank you, and I hope this isn't late.**

**Mashiara****: Glad you like it an thanks ever so for telling me about that mistake; I went and fixed it as soon as I got your review**

**Janet: *sighs over the vagaries of my best friend* maybe I should just call you…anyhow, they are *not* going to start "pulling" within a half of chapter or so, no matter if it is Britspeak.  Further proof of insanity, but I love you for reviewing.**

**Military Brat: Yeah, fluffy just to be fluffy doesn't work well with my muses.  And oh, no, they probably would have the thrown my entire laptop at you if you hadp praised me and not them…*ouch* see what I mean *rubs head, smiles as MilitaryBrat***


	5. Think For Yourself

Disclaimer: Were it mine, t'would be rather stupid to write fanfiction on it. And so we realize that it belongs to J.K. Rowling. And other people... 

Wow I am so sorry about the long wait...and the fact that this is not a complete chapter. *Author winces and ducks flying objects from whatever readers are actually still at this fic.* Heh...heh... Okay: to explain. Firstly, I do have two stories going at once, so I have to divide my time between the two. Secondly, after exam week, which was really rushed, the teachers were all eager to give massive amounts of work in order to make up for pre-test leniency. Evil. And thirdly, and this is the biggest reason the next full chapter will take me so long to get it out (although it oughtn't to be too much after this) is that I have had to rewrite it twice already. The story keeps making weird little twists, and then I have to argue with it until it gets back on some sort of track. So my writing has definitely been impeded. Sorry about the wait, hope someone reads (and reviews, please) and my replies are always at the bottom. 

*** 

"I don't need an entire day to come to a decision on this, you asshole." Hermione literally spat on Gavin's desk as she barged straight into his office. He soon realized that he had just crossed a very powerful witch and he looked up, fright oozing out of every pore in the form of sweat. Hermione almost smiled. "No. Do what you want, but the answer is no. Fuck you- oops! That's what you wanted me to do, wasn't it? Too bad, I'm out of here." Hermione swept out of the office, not needing to stop at her desk to get anything at all. She heard Gavin's thin, powerless voice wafting out of the office. 

  
"Don't think this little charade will cause me to not go ahead with my plan, Granger. By this time tomorrow, your mudblood name will be the mud of the wizarding world. You'll never be able to find a job!!" Hermione left that fluorescent lit basement laughing loudly. She laughed as the quasi-elevator brought her up from the subterranean depths and was still laughing as she took one last bitter look at the posh muggle foyer. Her laughter didn't end when she walked out onto the street and it didn't end as she walked back to her pathetic little flat. 

  
*** 

  
Hermione awoke the next morning with a massive pounding headache. It was so fierce that it took her some time to realize that part of the noise in her head was coming from her door. She sighed and kicked aside a few bottles of beer that she had bought from the corner liquor store on her way back to the apartment. Looking down, she blearily counted several bottles, not even wondering how she had fallen asleep with her glasses still on. She wrinkled her forehead trying to remember where the other bottles were. She vaguely remembered drinking them. How did one make such a large number of bottles disappear? "Magick..." she said aloud to her empty flat. "Magick!" she said again and giggled. The laughter soon faded as she winced at the loud noise it created. Then she remembered the door. She should get that. She was still standing, looking at the door with a none too focused expression when Harry and Ron blasted it in. Ron wrinkled his nose at the smell; he had never gotten a taste for muggle alcohol, but Harry closed his eyes remembering when Mr. Dursley came home late with it heavy on his breath. Hermione didn't really notice either of their reactions; she was too busy trying to figure out who the hell had just broken her door down. 

"Who the hell just broke my door down? Do I know you?" Ron looked at her as though she had grown another head, then whipped out his wand and performed the charm that would sober her up and reduce her hangover. He kindly, being her best friend and all, made sure that her headache and such was still there, just not enough to deter her thought process. Hermione glared at him then skimmed the room in search of her own wand to take the rest of them away. The boys, knowing what she was looking for helped her. None of them really wanted to know why it was stuck inside her toaster. 

  
"Go get dressed. Ron and I will make you some coffee." Hermione was very ashamed that they had seen her like this, but there was nothing for it. She nodded and disappeared into her bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind her. 

  
Ron sat at the small table with the employment section of the Daily Prophet opened before him. He pulled out a quill and some red ink and began looking for any job at all that Hermione could do. Harry looked for coffee, finding a small canister of relatively fresh stuff in a cupboard. He performed a freshening spell on some moldy bread he stumbled upon and set about making toast as the smell of coffee filled the air. Both men worked silently as they heard the slamming of drawers, the flush of a toilet and then the sound of the shower. At the last, both gave a small sigh and relaxed a bit. The tension in the room dispersed itself. After a few minutes, the shower stopped, and the sound of tooth brushing could be heard audibly. The result of having dentists for parents; Hermione was religious about her teeth. Ron nodded at Harry when he poured him a cup of coffee and gave him a piece of toast. The other man sat down with his own, Hermione's between them. For a few moments, the only sound in the flat was the quiet munching of toast and sipping of coffee. Then Hermione slipped quietly into the room, properly dressed in fresh clothing. Upon observing Ron and the paper, her mouth straightened into a flat line. 

  
"So you already know." The two men gave each other looks, neither wanting to be the one to break the news. Finally, Ron bit the bullet and flipped the paper so that the front page was face up, then silently handed it to Hermione. She took it, read the article and nodded slowly. She hadn't really expected anything else. It was not the main headline, but the slanderous article, written by none other than Rita Skeeter, was nonetheless in a prime position for everyone to see. It was simply a gossip bit about her dismissal from the company and the reasons why. It contained every bit of defamation that Gavin had threatened, from the allegations of her sleeping with her teachers to her poor work ethic, her constant infractions and her proposition to her boss. She flipped the paper open, ripping the front page not so accidentally as she did so and turned to the employment section that Ron had been marking. She absently sat between her two best friends as she read through the things that he had marked, accepting the cup of coffee Harry pressed into her hand still in silence. Ron wasn't good with silence. 

  
"Jesus, 'Mione! Yell, throw things, scream at us, even. Just talk," he blurted out, discomfited by her emotionless state. Hermione looked up from the paper, the same cold mask settling on her face as after her night with the Death Eaters. Both men recognized it immediately, and Harry gave an unconscious shudder. Hermione noticed. 

  
"What is there to say? Ranting, throwing things? Perhaps that is sufficient for you, Ron, but I'm sorry to tell you that I shan't be doing that. I am going to find a job and continue living my life." Ron remembered the last time she had said those words, when they awoke from the Infirmary and discussed what they were going to do with their futures. Neither of them dared remind her what had happened last time. Instead they backed off, feeling useless. Hermione looked up as they walked to the door, having cleaned up the kitchen. "Thanks for coming. Perhaps we'll see each other again some time, but right now I think I need to...get my life together. Please don't try to contact me." She went back to her paper before either of them could reply to her cold words. There was nothing for it but to leave. They both turned for a last look at the disturbingly calm girl at her kitchen table before they repaired and then closed the door softly. 

  
*** 

  
Hermione felt the soft click of that door was rather prophetic. One door closes...another was supposed to open, right? Right? 

  
*** 

  
Okay, I have just finished chapter five, which is going to be a little, but not horribly, shorter than the rest, and I need y'all to tell me something. You really would mention if this story was blatantly ridiculous, or if I had utterly stupid plot lines, or if my grammar and punctuation and word choice sucked, right? Right? Because in lazing about during mid-term week, I read an enormous number of stories with plots that I would dearly love to have, all written by people that I don't think should be let within ten feet of a keyboard. And I'm not placing myself out of this category; so I am asking you to please, please tell me if I fall into this category and then I will force myself from the keyboard (well, from writing horrible stuff and posting it, I can hardly stop writing). But I need to know if I am as trashy and surreal as some of the authors I have been reading. Quite honestly, I know that I myself have been tempted to leave the review: you suck as a writer. Please don't ever try this again, for fear of permanently damaging some hapless reader's brain. But I don't because that wouldn't be nice at all. However, if you feel this way (and I am going to put this in every chapter, especially my first) please don't hesitate so to do. Unless its grammatically incorrect, which will make me feel like it is invalid, I would love to know that I suck, rather than keep on writing drivel. Thanks so much. 

  
To:   
Morcades: your words made me blush)   
Rose of the Ravens: any more reallys and my head would explode because it got so big  
Dawn: Glad you want more  
Starlight: Thanks, and I hope you enjoy it.  
Stellar Snape: Hm, perhaps we will find a way to castrate him sometime, but for now, Hermione needs to basically re-do her life since she got out of Hogwarts. Revenge will have to come later. I am so excited that you like this:D  
Jessicat1982: Er...*author slinks off looking sheepish for her disgustingly late update. Wonders whether reader is still reading* Sorry? She does quit, as you see, but she just might run into some more unsavory characters in her new life. The next chapter coming soon to a computer near you...a few days anyhow, as this weekend is so busy for me!.  
Claribel: Glad you like it, and while it will take Hermione some time to get her **** (feel free to not censor yourself on my account, btw), she is at least away from Gavin. Snape is going to vascillate between horridness and niceness, and I am trying not to make him a sap. Succeeding?  
Deritine: The muses listened. Damn you, those bruises will take a while to go away. They take things rather literally. But in all seriousness, I am really psyched that you enjoy this, and think it is believable.  
MadAboutHarry: Her boss really is, but I wanted Hermione to make this decision on her own, and to begin taking control of her own life. She will begin to do so, but she has been so ill-used for so long that it will take a while.  
Madeleine Jete: Thanks so much for your wishes of luck, my lowest grade was a B+. so I'm pretty happy. I hope the production ran well, I know unexpected things INVARIABLY occur, but I hope nothing too out there did. 

  



	6. I'll Be On My Way

**_Disclaimer: Aw, how sweet.  You think I'm talented enough to write this universe myself.  But don't, cause I'm not- its JK Rowling's._**

****

**Now, I'll admit that this chapter is a few hundred words shorter than I had wanted it to be, but that's not really that big a deal.  It's certainly larger than the last little bit I posted.  My author replies are enormous, though.  Is that good or bad?  Again, please notify me if you would like to be on my mailing list either by posting a review (muses bob up and down happily about this option) or by emailing me at amariran@yahoo.com Thanks.  As a warning, this chapter covers a fairly long amount of time, so if you get confused at any time, feel free to post or email me questions and I will email you back and answer questions; I had to make myself a timetable to make sure I didn't make any huge errors.  If you do see an error of any sort; big, small, plot, whatever; I beg you to point it out to me.  Hope you enjoy reading this (I love Rent...La Vie Boheme…)  **

I'll Be On My Way

            Severus Snape looked at his watch once more and sighed.  Trust a woman to make a man wait for her.  And he had been so ready to give her some of the praise she had obviously felt she had deserved during her formative years for the report that had appeared via a massive public post owl at his bedside Monday morning.  The note attached had read _I hope this satisfies your requirements.  If it does, please send the rest of the money back with this owl.  Thanks, HG._  He had needed only a flip through it before he realized that this was undoubtedly spectacular work.  Although the heavy parchment carried something of a scent with it; he was sure he could only sense it because he had trained his nose with years of delicate potions work, but it was nonetheless there.  It didn't have the crisp office dry sent, didn't have the slightly dusty personal parchment scent, this was something altogether different.  He had shrugged off the thought quickly, realizing it was nothing more than a tangent, and summoned the appropriate amount of Galleons to place in the owl pouch.  The creature had given a soft hoot of recognition before it flew out of the dungeons.  

            Now, a day later, he stood waiting for the same person whose punctual work had always given him well hidden pleasure.  He turned to leave, deciding that waiting fifteen minutes was certainly long enough, when he became sensible of the sound of running feet even above the other noises of the street.  He looked the opposite way from where he had thought her office was to see Hermione running towards him, her hair flying out behind her.  She looked cute, he thought.  What the hell?  By the time she reached him he had composed himself, melting into the cold Professor Snape persona that seemed his best defense against these odd and rather unwelcome thoughts for his former student.    

            "I am terribly sorry, Professor, it was simply that-."  She stopped herself in mid-excuse, and changed what she had been about to say.  "I got caught up, is all.  I know how unpleasant it is to wait around for someone, and I assure you I didn't mean to make you do it."  He nodded and gave her a cold glance, gesturing that she follow along as he led the way to where he had made reservations.

            "Are we eating muggle, I hope?"  Curious as he was to her question, he just nodded again.  He heard her emit a frustrated sound and was shocked when he felt a hand tug on his jacket and pull him to a stop.  "I said that I'm sorry, you know damn well that it wasn't intentional and if you don't stop acting like an ass you are going to be eating lunch all by yourself."  He stopped dead still in the middle of the sidewalk and pulled himself up to his full height, turning to face the exasperating girl.  The look on her face, though he could not pin it down, caused him to rethink his words.

            "You are forgiven Miss Granger.  We will be eating at a small café, very good food, very casual atmosphere, and just a short Apparition away.  I trust that you have your wand with you?" He smiled at her then, allowing her to see the sense of humor he kept so well-hidden.  She returned his smile with audible relief, patting her jacket pocket.  He flicked a glance over her apparel so fast she didn't even see it, but he was rather surprised.  Gone were her frumpy office clothes, but he didn't know as he liked these any better.  They were simple, cheap, street clothes; beat up jeans and a sweatshirt jacket of a rather indeterminate color and material.  The jacket had not been zipped up all the way, perhaps due to the heat of the day, and he saw her shirt peeking out of its depth.  He nearly did a double-take when he saw a flash of bright color lurking.  The gaudy orange was something he would have expected to see on a waitress at some bawdy pub, not conservative Hermione Granger.  Well, that was her concern, he thought, continuing on to a shadowed part of the street where they could Apparate without passer-bys noticing, albeit at a more sedate pace.  His anger lasted only through the time she grasped his arm before he could Apparate without telling her where they were going.  Relaxing minutely at her calm acceptance of his mistake, he asked if he could Apparate them so that it could be a surprise.  She acquiesced.

            Within a moment, they were standing in an alley.  Bright sunlight was a foot away, and Hermione could hear a foreign language being spoken.  French, she knew.  Severus led her to a small café and Hermione realized that she was rather hungry.  She had been working hard all day.

            Both academics having loosened up a bit, they were able to enjoy a delectable lunch, the ordering of which fell to Snape, as he had obviously been here before.  However, and he almost forgot himself and mentioned it to her, she had a wonderful grasp of the French language for someone whom he didn't think had any connections to the country.  He did manage to slip out a suitably complimentary statement on her work on the Unforgivable Potions and Curses.  She had stared him as though he had jumped and danced a jig while chanting the Gryffindor motto at the top of his lungs.  The thought of him doing so caused her to laugh.  Snape's smirk turned into a look of perplexity as he wondered what was so damn funny.  He asked her the question aloud.  Hermione looked at him for a moment as if considering telling him, then smiled widely and waved a hand in dismissal.

            "I thank thee muchly for the compliment, my Lord.  No matter how discreetly you had to couch it."  She arched an eyebrow at her former Potions Master and current…friend, whose smirk had returned in its full glory.  Was friend the right word?  Did she dare ask him directly?  She opened her mouth, but closed it as he leaned forward to hear what she had to say in the noisy café.  It was too soon.  And she was distracted by his proximity, the essence that seemed to emanate from him, and the dark pools in his eyes…

            Their conversation, though neither directed it, flowed freely and eventually turned to Hogwarts business.  That had been the excuse, er, reason for their meeting after all.  Severus was listening intently to Hermione's input as they toyed with the dregs of their wine when she stopped in mid-explanation, her eyes going wide in fear.  

            "What time is it?" she demanded, and then pulled up her sleeve to check the muggle watch that was banded around her right wrist.  Severus thought he saw…but she pushed the sleeve back down and he dismissed the thought, realizing it was a shadow.    Years as a spy had been known to make on paranoid and jump to bizarre conclusions, he admitted to himself.  He was slightly startled when she stood up, pushing back her chair and rummaging in her messenger bag for money.  He forcefully insisted that she allow him to pay, and she apparently could not afford to stand there arguing with him, for she quickly and grudgingly capitulated and rushed out.  He knew without going to check that she had Apparated back to her job.  He paid the bill and left at a less hurried pace.  He realized that they had forgotten to set a time for the next meeting.  He had really enjoyed today.  As an exercise in listening to someone else's critique of his decisions, that was.  He Apparated back to his castle wrapped in safe self-delusion.       

***

            Hermione arrived at her workplace out of breath from running.  If she found her skirt in the small back room of the diner quickly, she should make it on time.  Of the three jobs she now worked, this was probably the best, but even so that didn't make it so great.  Not that she was complaining.  This was the only place in the wizarding world that had been willing to hire her.  The man she had met with on her intensive job search had demanded that she work in three of his businesses, but he paid her for each and that was what counted.  By now, she had flung off the old pair of jeans she had thrown on, thanking the gods above that she had decided to wear her top just in case she ran late.  She pulled on the short skirt quickly, wincing as a bit of the elastic in the waste bit into her skin; the result of its being so tight.  She wriggled a bit, trying to get more comfortable, but it was difficult to do so as she was trying to spell her flats for protection from aching feet.  The hours after her first shift were spent in furiously searching for a charm to get rid of the throbbing in her muscles, and she found it to be much easier to simply be proactive.  Hermione swept her hair into a quick ponytail, fighting it as it tried to outsmart the band she pulled around it.  Finally, the girl was ready, and she ran out the door with about a minute to spare.  She had learned last night what happened if she didn't do what she was told.  Oh!  She had almost forgotten to charm her arms with a quick glamour to cover the bruises.  They weren't many and they couldn't be helped, so she wasn't going to raise a fuss over them.  She had enough to worry about.  Hermione paused for a moment, wondering if, even in spite of her jacket, Snape had seen them, but surely he would have said something.  As she flashed a cursory and shallow smile at a customer, she pondered how on earth it was that Severus hadn't heard the news.  Probably because it was gossip; she doubted he had much patience for it.  

            "Watch where you're going, girl." The man growled at her as he shoved her away from him.  She forced her voice to sound upset as she apologized to the clumsy buffoon, and ignored the aching in her arms.  She knew that just like yesterday, the shift manager would be waiting for her with warning words.  Hermione had been told that she had four strikes and she was out.  The thin, severe man who oversaw the diner from the after breakfast crowd through the lunch rush, where they were now, pursed his lips and held two fingers up at her.  Somehow, everyone seemed to know her business no matter where it happened.  At least no one had recognized her yet, save the owner of the place.  Places.  The brainy witch planned to give herself a makeover tonight with some heavy-duty cosmetic charms; Harry or Ron wouldn't even be able to tell it was her when she was finished.  The rest of the afternoon was spent in a rush of clattering dishes, impatient and obnoxious customers, and squalling children whose parents seemed to think that she was not just their server, but their personal baby sitter as well.

***

            Hermione was exhausted, but she needed all three of her jobs to make enough money to pay for her flat, utilities, and food.  It hadn't seemed like a problem even when she had her minor and dead-end job, but waitresses and cleaners didn't make a whole lot.  Most of the other girls who worked in the place when the sun went down picked up extra cash by other jobs.  It didn't require someone with the score she had gotten on the NEWTs to tell how it was they earned their supplementary money.  Still, she would be damned (more) if she resorted to that.  Besides, she wasn't really attractive enough for that sort of work.  Her boss had told her that she would earn a lot more money as a dancer than as a server on the floor, but had allowed her to decline the offer, simply handing her a short notice of rules and shoving her out the door.  Even on a weeknight, this place was hopping.  The diner, located next to this place, was still open.  This was much, much different.  She straightened her thin white top, wishing it covered more, and tried to tug her black miniskirt down.  She glanced in the mirror hanging by the dressing room, a blissfully muggle one that didn't speak, and decided that her garish lipstick was fine.  She watched with something akin to fascination as her smile blossomed and her eyes appeared to sparkle with color.  She strutted out into the smoky, dimly lit room, eying the men in their posh business robes and the others girls, looking for tonight's mark and the big tippers.  A huge bar wrapped around the stage, and there were booths situated in the back of the room.  The place was filled, but never got as annoyingly packed as a muggle joint.  Unless you were a waitress, serving more than a dozen at once.  Hermione Granger, the smartest witch to ever pass through the halls of Hogwarts since Minerva McGonagall herself, was assigned to wait on several tables full of drunk, horny men.  And cautioned to act 'much pleasanter' than she had last night.  She nodded in mute acquiescence and made her way to the table nearest the door.  Hours were spent taking drink orders, listening to the comments about her ass as she made her way from the table, watching the crowd get more drunk, spend more money, and hearing the pounding beat of the music rage on and on.  She never once glanced at the brightly lit stage.  Hermione finished her shift and went home, not noticing the scent that clung perniciously to her; wizarding tobacco, alcohol, and lust.

            The former Head Girl crept up the filthy stairwell to her apartment, trying to ignore the blatant sounds from the apartment next to hers.  Cynically, she bet the girl was faking.  None of the guys she'd ever met could make a girl _that_ happy.  She scraped her key against the lock on her door, adding one more scratch to many.  Her apartment was just one room.  Her bed was neat and tucked into the far left corner, a mini-kitchen took up most of the right side, and a midsized table with four chairs filled the rest of the floor space.  Well, that and the bookshelves.  She had charmed them so that they all fit, and so that there was room for a small but fairly comfortable chair with a lamp above it for reading.  She never had time for it, though.  

            She showered in the cramped bathroom.  Hermione had to stand in the shower to see herself in the bathroom mirror, and she could reach her toothbrush from there, too.  At least it saved time; even after just a few days of this she knew that once she got home about one, all she was able to do was clean up and sleep.  A forgotten tome lay on a chair in just as much disuse.   

***

            The sun was shining down on Harry Potter again as he sat on his veranda with his girlfriend at his side.  And if he had his way, she would be more than just his girlfriend.  The word fiancée felt like champagne on the tip of his tongue, bubbling and sweet and so wonderful he wanted to share the feeling with the whole world.  He set down the glass of lemonade that he had been unconsciously toying with and turned to Mireille with a look that she would treasure forever in her mental picture book of 'Priceless Harry Moments'.  He took a deep breath, not realizing how obvious he was.  Mireille idly brushed her thick brown hair back across her shoulders, pretending she didn't see him taking the box out of his pocket until he had gathered up the courage to tap her on the shoulder.  She turned with surprise.

            "Mi-Mireille.  I…Damn it.  Sirius said it was going to be hard, but this is crazy.  It wasn't as hard to kill Voldemort as it is to propose to you…shit!"  Harry suddenly realized that he had ruined the whole thing.  He blushed a deep brick red.  Mireille smiled at him with a bright, vaguely puzzled expression.

            "I'm sorry, sweetheart.  What were you saying, again?  I didn't quite catch any of that."  Harry looked at her with gratitude, recognizing that she was giving him a chance to do this right.  And he did.  He got down on one knee in front of the white wicker chair in which she reposed and opened the scarlet velvet ring box.  He and Sirius had picked it out after hours of searching in Diagon Alley when Hermione left.  As he did so, he gazed steadily into her eyes, trying to convey all the love he felt for her in that one look, in that one moment.  And he asked her if she would do him the honour of becoming his wife.  

***

            Hermione had settled in to her routine.  It had been about a month since her exile from the majority of the wizarding world, and by now she wasn't so sure either was an improvement on the other.  Drudgery, dreariness, and nothing to relieve it.  It was her one night off, but she had nowhere to go.  Harry and Ron had, thankfully, decided not to go looking for her.  She had tactfully ignored the two letters Snape owled her about another meeting.  She would not break an already made commitment, but she couldn't handle another tension-filled meeting.  Eight o clock and she had nothing to do but sleep.  Already wearing her ratty, but extremely comfortable pajamas, Hermione turned down the sheets of her bed.  She was interrupted by tapping on her window.  Immediately believing it to be an intruder, she grabbed her wand and turned to face the window, which was right behind her bed.  She was rather surprised, and slightly annoyed, to discover Hedwig.  Harry's owl was getting older, but magickal owls had an increased lifespan.  Her own Crookshanks would be in the prime of his life right now if he had been a kitten when she got him, but since he was a full grown half-Kneazle on the cusp of old age, she had suffered the tragic loss in her seventh year.  Didn't matter now, anyways, as none of the apartments she had rented for the past few years had allowed pets.  She opened the window to admit the bird, untying the letter and breaking the seal as she walked the few short steps to her pantry to get the owl some biscuits.  She absently laid some on a napkin as she read the short letter.  Then she re-read it.  Despite her severe disassociation with all of the remnants of her former life, she couldn't help but be overjoyed at that fact that her Harry was getting married.  His love for the girl literally shown from even so short a missive as that which he sent.  Hermione was just a little bit wistful.  She had given up hope of Prince Charming well before she had even graduated.  Soul mates were not for bushy-haired, dull-faced brains like herself.  But the second part to the notice, the part that requested her attendance at Mireille's bachelorette party in a few weeks…that she would simply have to send an earnest no in reply.  She could hardly get out of going to the wedding, and she did so want to see Harry standing at the altar, but other than that she didn't wish to have any other part.  She summoned a piece of paper and a pen from a drawer and penned her reply, attaching it to the owl's leg.  Then she opened the window again with a flick of her wand and watched the snowy white bird soaring gracefully out of her dingy apartment into the inky sky she could see beyond the glare of the neon store signs and streetlights.

***

            "Severus."                

            "Harry."  Silence fell over the Headmaster's office for a few minutes until the man behind the desk gave a deep sigh of frustration.  "You requested this meeting, boy.  I assume that it was not merely to enjoy the pleasure of my company?"  Harry expelled a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding and leaned back into the rather uncomfortable chair he had been motioned into after arriving at Hogwarts.  He gathered his thoughts for a moment, then spoke.

            "No, I had a reason.  Hermione."  Harry didn't see the strange look which passed over his companion's face at her name.  "She…well, you've heard the gossip, no doubt?"  Severus nodded.

            "I heard it a few days after I met her for lunch.  She didn't really seem strange then.  But in any event, I fail to see what this has to do with me."  For a moment, Harry looked straight at the former Potions Master, face hopeful.

            "You saw 'Mione?"

            "Tuesday…about five weeks ago.  I sent her an owl about another meeting, but she ignored it."  Harry heard some bite in the man's words, and because he had gotten to know the man in the past few years, realized that it hid some hurt.  He was wise enough not to mention it.  

            "Well, that's just it, Severus.  She has kicked us, me and Ron and Sirius and Ginny and everyone, out of her life.  You know I proposed to Mirielle last week, of course; and I do hope that you will join us for the wedding…  And I sent her a letter inviting her to the wedding, and Mirielle asked that she be invited to her bachelorette party as she has heard so much about this best friend of mine that she's never met.  Hermione sent a reply saying that while she will attend the wedding, there is no way that it was possible that she could be part of the party.  And she also said that the reception directly coincides with an important day at work."  Severus looked at the boy in front of him.

            "Her work?  What does she do now?"  

            "I don't know."  Severus was aghast.  This man called himself Hermione's best friend, yet he had no idea what she did for a living?

            "Mr. Potter, you undoubtedly win the Most Devoted Friend award.  Congratulations."  His voice was dripping with sarcasm.  

            "When I said she kicked us out of her life, Snape, I wasn't kidding.  She made Ron and I promise that we wouldn't contact her, so all I know is that she is alive and not living in her old apartment.  Out of respect for her, neither of us have gone looking, much as we want to.  Our monthly get-togethers just aren't the same without her."  Harry looked so despondent, yet Snape had to keep himself from cracking up.  He wasn't even sure what was funny about the situation, just that it was.

            "How very sweet.  You say she made you and Weasley promise not to find her?"  Harry nodded, wondering what the man was going on about.  It wasn't like the powerful wizard to be a parrot.  Then he caught the look in the Headmaster's eyes.  **_He_**_ hadn't promised her anything._

***

            Hermione winced as she set her feet into the steaming water in the bowl in her kitchen.   A sedentary bookworm all her life, she was not used to a life that required her to be on her feet all the time.  The best thing that could be said of her jobs right now was that they kept her busy.  She had no time to reflect upon what she could have done, what she could have been.  She had just gotten back from her work at the club, putting water on to heat up and throwing on the tattiest clothing she had.  Although pretty much all of her wardrobe was shabby.  It wasn't like it really mattered anyways; she didn't go anywhere except for the grocery, and she hardly needed to dress up for that.  And while she didn't have a uniform for her first job, it wasn't as though she was going to wear designer clothing while cleaning a restaurant from top to bottom at six in the morning.  She had sold all of her frumpy office clothing to a thrift store, and bought some equally frumpy clothing more suitable to her current life.  Of which skirts longer than a few inches past her bottom were not a part.  The most polite thing that could be said about any of her clothing was that it was clean.  Well, mostly, she thought, frowning irritably at a stain on the discoloured bottom of her short sleeved shirt.  Harry's wedding was not for several weeks, thank goodness, so she didn't have to do anything yet.  She had also written that she would be unable to be part of the party.  She was sure that Mirielle had friends of her own that she would rather have stand up for her.  She didn't need a witch who was currently working two bit jobs for a sleazeball.  For that was the only name by which her boss could be known.  It had taken her a while to figure it out, but it was true.  She had to face the facts that she was a sorry judge of characters and situations when it came to her own life.  When it came to saving the ass of the entire wizarding world, she was as ace as Harry, but she couldn't even find a decent place of employment for herself.  

            "Granger, you are a fucking pathetic piece of-."

            "Well, the flat, yes.  Your clothes, most certainly.  But you?  Oh, no, my dear Miss. Granger.  Pathetic is not a word that I would use to describe you attributes."  The words were cool and collected.  Hermione shivered and turned in her chair to face the man who had suddenly Apparated into her apartment.

**Again, please feel free to tell me if you think I suck.  However, I would also like to say how incredibly much I appreciated all those people who reviewed and told me that they enjoyed this and that I wasn't horrible at this.  And by the way, if all you have to say is: I like reading this, and I am doing so…that's okay with me.  I adore constructive criticism, but anything is really all right, so long as it tells me that there are people reading this.  **

****LMiC2001: Hmm, you're absolutely right; fighting with the muses is a bad thing to do.  Thank you for the assurance.**

****Mylin: Thanks a ton for the sympathy; I quit in the middle of writing this thank-you because I realized that I was actually procrastinating about studying for a test.  Don't worry, I was going to post this at the same time regardless.  **

****MissCrystalix: Whoah, glad this makes you so eager.  The thing is, Hermione doesn't want this job; she doesn't want to have a boss like Gavin.  Also, she is a really proud person, and wants advice; not a white knight.  Whether Severus wants to be the white knight, well, that the muses will have to tell me.  **

****Alex: Glad you don't think so, and thanks!**

****Deritine: *Author glares for not sympathizing with her for her evil, evil muses.  Realizes that reader has faithfully reviewed past x chapters, brightens up and smiles*  No, really, I am thankful for your continued comments.  This one was up in a fairly short time and is almost normal length, so I hope it makes you happy (sure made me happy when I realized it was at a point where I wanted to end the chapter).  Severus will have other things to get on her ass about than the research, promise.  And while he does read the Daily Planet, he was really caught up in school and reading her report; he's a very busy man, doesn't read or listen to gossip; and his most common conversation companions (Sirius and Harry) are under orders not to tell him.  And I think Remus is too nice to gossip.  Oh, I;m so glad that you understand why Hermione isn't letting everyone else help her.  She needs to grow a little bit.  I really loved hearing the reasons you found my fic good and down to earth, so thank you.  Hope you liked this chapter.**

****Eternal Queen: *Laughs*  Er, it may take a while longer yet, but with my muses you never know.  They're going slow, because neither of them are the type (in my story) to jump into a relationship; and they both have heavy pasts and busy presents.  **

****Madeleine Jete: Well, I've always thought I'm god, to tell the truth (why *do* people look at me oddly when I say that).  But honestly, I know well how that feels.  Happened to me when I got back from my tournament at about one in the morning, and went to check email and stopped for fanfiction.  Yay.  Woohoo on the well-reviewed play, that's always cool.  If you think I sound weird, your right, I'm trying to study and write and its late, but I want to make sure that I have this all done so that I just have to post it up tomorrow afternoon.  I really actually adore constructive criticism, and your reviews are all well-thought out; I often can leave nothing more than a "good job", but I always want to let the author know that it was.  Hm, I may take a look at the first part, although since it didn't leave any permanent confusion it may not change.  And that is one of the points I'm trying to make; I'm sort of a new author, and my personal stories take a long time to develop, so this story gives me a great chance to try and work on characterizing correctly and making my characters imperfect and fallible, but still likeable, and always growing and changing.  Hermione has to decided whether to go and try to be perfect again, and I'm not positive what she is going to do (damn muses…)**

****Fang-gurlie: Thanks, and that's true; I was probably too harsh about other people's stories: I promise that I would never actually send that to anyone!**

****Thea: Oh, I am so happy that you like this; my other story is rather cliché, but interesting to write, and this one I've been striving not to make cliché.**

****MadAboutHarry: I forget, did I answer your comments in the email I sent you?  I hope that was okay; I just had to tell you how stupid I am when it comes to HTML.  Luckily, the wonderful  person I mentioned in the mail fixed it.  This chapter is at least a little faster, so I hope that you enjoy that.  I am blushing after hearing the nice things you said; they also sounded well-thought out.  And again, thanks for not being hesitant about pointing out my errors, I'd love to be a better writer.  **

****Orenda: It is slow, but it will get there, and I'm glad that you like the set-up.  Thank you****J**

****Sam: Thank you:D**

****Rhiannon: The Snape in my story isn't the greasy git as mentioned in JK Rowling's book, and he is the only one (although I can't see Rowling having him do this) I can imagine sexually harassing anyone, if at all.  But the Gavin in my mind is a slimeball..Hermione does seem to pick them, doesn't she?  Its going to take some time for Hermione to get back to the same girl who was instrumental in the downfall of the Dark Lord (although my muses aren't telling me exactly what, I think her job was much more dangerous than either Harry or Ron's), and until then she isn't going to be bold enough to give him what he deserves, but she is most certainly NOT broken.  Thanks a lot for the comments. **

****Stellar Snape: See, see, this one was longer.  Yay.  Yes, Hermione is trying to start controlling her own life again, its just going to take her some time.  And now *I'm* starting to want to castrate her boss…but I don't think the muses will let me.  **

****Clarity: I love you so much for taking the time to give me that encouragement.  When I saw it today it made me very happy.  The bout of self-doubt has…quieted.  I'm a shy person when it comes to things I do, and I don't like thinking I'm good at things (my friends get rather ticked sometimes), but knowing that people who have no reason to lie to me think there's something of value in my writing does indeed give me confidence.  Especially because you gave specific things, so it makes it seem valid.  I really hope that you like this chapter.  **


	7. Only A Northern Song

**_Disclaimer: No, really, I promise that I'm not  making anything from this.  And it wouldn't be on FANfiction sites if I was claiming authorship of the concept (I do, however claim authorship of this fic).  So don't bother me._**

**Um…yeah.****  I have no excuse save that real life has been pretty damn busy lately and that I have recently used up more than the 150 hours of internet time that I am allowed per month, which ends after the 13th, so I am going to have to figure out the fastest way to get my author replies and upload this.  Remember, if you want to be on a mailing list (and I don't perceive future chapters taking anywhere near this long, I'll be on break in a week anyways) either tell me in a review, or drop me a line (never understood that expression) at amariran@yahoo.com because I would love to email you when the next chapter is up.  I hope that you somehow forgive me for taking this long, and enjoy this story.  All comments and criticisms of any extent are fine by me:o)  Oh, and a whole lot of you may be a little disappointed with this next part.  Sorry, but as a warning, all predictions are subject to being WRONG.**

Only a Northern Song

            Hermione felt the sneering words permeate the shell of self-loathing she had collected around herself.  She could sense the lascivious gaze which swept over her figure, swathed even as it was in indeterminate fabric.  For the past week, he had begun to stop over after she was done with work but before she could tumble onto her lumpy mattress.  Just to chat, he claimed, but she didn't believe it for one moment.  She knew what he wanted, and she knew just as surely that he'd get what she had given the Death Eaters if he tried anything of the sort.

            Her boss or no, she wasn't going to be any one's toy any longer.  But she also knew that there were few people in the wizarding world, if any, who would deign to hire her for even the most menial of labors.  She was forced to walk a fine line between teasing…and inviting.  She steeled herself invisibly and took the first careful step.

            "Well, if my clothing isn't quite right, we'll just have to fix it, now won't we?" she asked with a smile as she stepped out of the bowl of steaming hot water she had been soothing her feet in.  A quick wave of the wand that lay beside her on her chipped plastic table and she was wearing a nice pair of jeans (well, comparatively) and a tank top.  Another wave and her straggly hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail.  She summoned a towel and dried her feet manually, keeping him in her eyesight as much as she could.  If she was lucky, he would leave after having a drink with her; it had always worked before now, and she had no reason to believe that he would change his habit.  Then again, she had long since ceased to believe that Lady Luck held her in any particular favour.  "Like a drink?"  He nodded, his eyes still trained on her form.  Hermione cursed the Fates for landing not just one, but two demeaning jobs in a row, complete with very own asshole employers.  She didn't think she would ever have the energy to rebuild her life.  Once had been hard enough, and this was where it had landed her.  Popping the top off a beer for her employer at one in the morning, hoping against hope that he didn't try to molest her.  

            She smiled as brightly as she could and tried to wish him away.  She was unsurprised when it did the opposite.  The average looking man glanced around the room as though he owned it, and then made himself at home in the only comfortable chair there.  He was about to toss the book he almost sat on away when the title caught his eyes.  As did the feel of an old, well-bound leather book.

            "Where did you get this?" he asked slyly, territorially turning it over in his slightly pudgy hands.  

            "A friend," Hermione answered shortly, annoyed at the thought of him touching one of the few remainders of her former life.  She kept meaning to send it back to Snape, but had never found quite the right time.  In fact, she had all but forgotten about the tome.  Books and knowledge had little to do with her current life.  

            "Looks old…"  Hermione privately doubted the man could read even a word of the text.  He would only know a first edition as grand as that one if it were labeled as such.  In really big letters.  The thought of defacing Snape's property so made her wince.  Luckily, her unwanted companion didn't seem to notice.  "So are you still trying to avoid your life?"

            "Hardly," Hermione said, striving to keep the bitterness out of her voice.  She did a good enough job, she supposed, because her boss beamed up at her, throwing the book aside to land with a hard thump in the corner.

            "Splendid.  This is your life now, dear. With us.  With me."  With those words, he got up and walked over to where Hermione still stood, a few feet away by the refrigerator.  Her mind whirled frantically trying to think of an excuse to put off the attentions of this vile man without enraging his ire.  

            "Oh, sir, I am soo tired," she cooed seductively.  "Perhaps we can finish this conversation…another time?"  The man, who was rather stupider than his outward appearance would suggest, stopped and narrowed his gaze at her, trying to make her feel as though he could read the secrets of her soul.  After seven years in Professor Snape's potions class, she found the attempt laughable.  Then he nodded wisely and, giving a ridiculous looking bow, Apparated back out to whatever hole he had crawled out of.  Hermione gave a relieved sigh and collapsed into the nearest chair.  How was she going to keep putting him off?

***

            The worried girl woke up at the harsh buzz of her wand a few hours later, stumbling wearily into her miniscule bathroom to prepare for another exhausting and tedious day.  Hermione's mind was now working better than it had been for a few years now, trying to figure out just what she had to do to balance the living she needed to make with the life she needed to have.  And just as she was cleaning a bit of steam off her little mirror, the idea came to her.  It was odd that it had never occurred to her before, seeing as how it had always been the answer before.  Well, it and the library, really.  Yes, school.  She would go to Uni like she should have two years ago.  She would create a whole new persona, an entire person that had no such baggage as Hermione Granger had.  Death Eaters, best friends who saved the world, sleazy bosses and dead end jobs would have nothing to do with this new girl.  

            All through the day, Hermione went through the routine motions of her life, while planning out the intricate details to her scheme.  She definitely needed to keep the jobs that she now worked at because she needed a way to pay for tuition and books and…and there was so much, she had no idea how or why she was even thinking of trying. 

            Depressed with the futility of her situation, she didn't smile at one of the patrons quite bright enough to suit him and wound up with several more bruises on her arms than had been there earlier in the day.  Wincing as she walked the few blocks in the dark streets, Hermione reflected on the fact that there were people so petty as to care about such a thing.  Was there anyone, anywhere, in the world who wasn't like Gavin or Eldrich or Malfoy, or Zabini, or McNair?  Her faith in humanity had pretty much crumbled that fateful night a little more than two years ago.  Now she had to decide whether there was a point in rebuilding it, and her life.

***

            The reason came walking up the street five days later as she strode home on her night off.  Although it took him a while to determine that this was, indeed her, since she was identifiable only by her walk.  The tall figure slipped stealthily out of the shadows of one of the buildings, causing her to scream.  Upon realization of who this person was, Hermione narrowed her eyes in annoyance, confusion, and another emotion she would never have admitted to-relief. 

            "What the hell are you doing here, Snape?" she snapped at him and brushed past the man coldly.  Hadn't she made it damn clear to Harry and Ron that she wanted to be left alone?  

            "Ah, the lovely tones of your voice shall warm my heart forever.  Looking for you, of course."  His voice was even and sarcastic and so familiar it almost brought Hermione to tears.  She had made her decision a few days ago: that she was doing as well with her life now as she would ever do.  Why did he have to come and try to change that?

            "Well you've found me.  And you can tell my so-called friends who sent you that I am fine and then you can go and stick your head up-."  Her biting tirade was cut off by a low chuckle and Hermione stopped stock-still in the middle of the street.  Since it was summer, there was still plenty of light, but she could see hints of a sunset if she looked over the tops of the buildings.   

            "Charming, but unnecessary.  Perhaps we ought to take this somewhere a bit more private?  I trust that you live somewhere around here."  Hermione's brain flew, thinking of the best option.

            "Actually, no.  I was just in the neighborhood.  Buying things."  Hermione held up her bag.  Truthfully, all it had in it were her work clothes, but Snape didn't need to know that.  "Unfortunately, much as I'd love to linger, I think I have to go wash my hair."  Her words were said in so reasonable a tone that it took even sharp-witted Severus a moment to register just what she had said.  By that time, Hermione had Apparated away.  

***

            And with that one little moment, Hermione's plans had completely changed.  She was not going to be a person who would be ashamed of meeting an old professor on the street.  She would be what she had always dreamed she would be when she grew up.  She had just never thought that she would have to grow up in a week, before she was eighteen.  The war had left a heavy mark on the shining girl she had begun to bloom into.  Now was the time to revert a little.  Or move on, perhaps.  That was the better phrase.  She had been a little surprised that Snape had been able to tell that it was her.  After all, her cosmetic charms were very advanced.  Her hair was short and cropped in slightly curling blond locks.  Her eyes were a watery green, and her complexion was an artificial tan that library-loving Hermione would never have worn.  Hermione did what she had always done when she had a difficult puzzle to solve. She made a list, divided, and conquered. 

            First, she had to get a new identity.  Anyone would do, and she had heard that there were people in her neighborhood who specialized in this sort of thing.  If they were given the right price, that was.  She made a quick mental tally of how much money she had.  Although she wasn't paid very much, she lived so cheaply that she did have a little bit of money put away.  She hadn't had a reason for saving it, but she was now damned glad that she had.

            Next, she had to make a list of the colleges that she would apply to.  Oddly enough, wizarding colleges didn't require high school transcripts, and she could scrape by without recommendations if she did as highly on her entrance exams as she intended to do.  She had not really considered college after school because she had just been eager to get on with her life and enter "the real world".  Highly overrated, reality was.  Her dream college when she had still been young enough to ignore the war raging outside of Hogwarts Castle had been wizarding Oxford.  And they did give merit scholarships, she recollected.  There was a possibility…

            Lastly, she had to figure out how she was going to both attend classes and work three full time jobs.  That would be one of the biggest difficulties she would face, but she was determined to meet this challenge as she had every other in her life: knowing she was going to **win.  **

***

            "_300 galleons_?"  Hermione was aghast at the exorbitant sum.  She had been willing to pay a lot, but that went far beyond her means at the moment.  She wasn't sure how long it would take her to raise that sort of money, and she only had a certain amount of time before the deadline for application was up.  The smirking wizard with shifty grey eyes nodded solemnly, though his eyes were laughing at her naïveté.  "Well, I'm not so certain that your quality of work is worth it," Hermione said, changing tactics immediately, having realized that the innocent tack wasn't going over so well with the street hard wizard.  

            The man casually flipped out a sheaf of papers.  "No, you don't.  These are all top-quality documents.  With my work, no one will ever know that you aren't…say, Melinea Murdock.  You can get into places, buy any item with these i.d.'s…hell, you can go to the Ministry of Magick, and it'll all check out like its real."  Hermione bit her lip, though she hid the nervous motion well.  

            "I may be back, if I decide to invest my money in this venture."  If _she could figure out where to get the money.  Hermione was hard at thought as she wound her way to the bar.  Before going off to her last job, she had stopped off at a little place where a coworker had quietly told her she would find what she had wanted.  She knew that she could make money at the lounge, but was she really willing to do it?  Hermione took a deep breath before she walked into the smoky, dark place.  There was a price for everything, and she had learned long ago that there was nothing to do but pay it.  _

***

            He ground his teeth to keep from snarling in anger.  He had lost what little faith in humanity he had ever possessed so many years ago that he shouldn't be surprised by this, but his heart didn't care that it was supposed to be petrified.  There were few things he had ever given up on in his life, but this was going to have to be one of them. She had obviously made her choices…and there was nothing he or his world had to offer her if this was what she wanted.  It had been hard enough to track her down as it was.  He walked out of the hazy room without a single look back.  Perhaps he would have seen the look of heavy regret that flashed across the dancer's face before it was replaced by the flashy, seductive grin she had been wearing all evening.  

***

            She felt filthy.  Hell, she **was filthy.  There was nothing wrong with what she had done tonight, nothing that thousands of perfectly respectable women hadn't done for ages.  The problem was that it was such a perversion of her true nature.  But she was _not going to dwell on it.  She was going to do it, and she was going to end this sham of a life.  She would exchange it for a different sort of sham.  Hermione had realized that it would be possible for her to quit this work if she really did get the scholarship, so she had taken to studying in every spare moment.  She knew that Eldrich was getting sick of being put off every night, but she had no way to resolve the issue.  She would never give in, but playing along was the only way she could ever get out.  The former brunette wearily shut and Banished the textbook she had been avidly reading, knowing that he would be Apparating to her flat in a few moments.  At least he was predictable.  And at least Snape hadn't shown up again.  She ignored the regret that painted that thought as she pasted on a smile for her unwanted visitor who had just deigned to pop in. _**

            "Darling, I must tell you that you were simply marvelous.  In fact, some of the men were even asking whether you were also available for…some of the other services many of the girls supply.  So-."

            "No.  But be sure to tell them I'll be back at the same time in a day, as we discussed."  The middling man looked slightly put out, and then seemed to brighten.

            "But of course I knew you would come around once you got to know me.  If only we could conquer this little hang up of yours."  

            "I've told you before, I would feel simply *terrible* if you were to catch my beri-beri.  But don't worry, dear, its quite temporary.  Just a few more weeks and I'll be ready, willing, and _very_ able to…help you out," Hermione purred.  _Just a few more weeks and then I will be out of here forever, good riddance and I won't let the door hit my ass as I high-tail it out of here.  But for now she would speak softly and carry a powerful wand.  Although the man in front of her certainly didn't know it.  He knew the former Hogwarts Head Girl only as far as the papers and tabloids had suggested her to be, and therefore suspected none of the true depths of the simpering, phony twit she played.  He had really approved of her new look when she decided to disguise herself, and had been openly pleased that she seemed to be diving right into her new life.  Soon after, Elrin Eldrich had begun to grandly bestow his attentions on her.  Hermione had acted the flattered female, and had been powerless to stop him when he insisted on visiting her at her room.  She had, however, managed to keep his interest on her while making sure that he didn't force her to have sex until she said she was fine.  Lovely idea, she thought.  She had thought of it from a favorite short story by Dorothy Parker, a muggle poet and author.  She suddenly spotted a college review book on the floor next to her bed, where she had not fully tucked it underneath.  She had to hide such things, for she wouldn't like to see Eldrich's reaction if he caught wind of what she was doing.  But all her carefulness would be for naught if he saw that one, thick manual._

            Hermione smiled again, brightly, at the man standing next to her bookshelf, and then yawned hugely.

            "Sir, I am sooo tired.  I can't possible be of any use to you tonight.  Besides, I want to get some sleep so that I can practice my routines.  I do so want to be the absolute best that I can be." She sauntered over to him seductively, a fawning look etched on her features.  Her body, thin though it was, was large enough to block his view of her bed.  Eldrich certainly wasn't smart enough to realize that she was trying to be a screen, but simply contented himself with gazing hungrily at Hermione.  She knew that he was mentally undressing her, and the thought made her skin crawl like so many ants over her body.  

            "Well, fine then.  Be sure that you are as attentive with your work this morning as you were last night.  I knew the moment I saw you that this was the life you were meant for.  You were made to be on that stage, in that costume.  How lucky you are to have found your true vocation."  He smiled a mockingly tender smile that looked more demented than anything else on his bland features, and Apparated back to whatever hole he had crawled out of.  But his words rang in her head.  Was it true?  He had seen hundreds of girls in his career, perhaps she really was made to do this.  To strut about scantily clothed, with hair not her own and a smile forced upon her face.  Money her only goal, and men her only way to get it.  As always happened when she got like this, her ears filled with the taunts of the Death Eaters.  Whore, mudblood, slut…the list had been endless, and after awhile she had started to doubt herself.  Hermione's eyes began to blur with fatigue and self-defeat as she looked about her scanty apartment.  And her eyes fell upon the book Snape had lent her.  

            The former Gryffindor student pursed her lips in determination.  She would be able to give that book back to Professor Snape some day.  She would be able to look him straight in the face.  And on that day, the voices in her head would be silenced for ever.  The images would wrinkle and burn as though they had never been there at all.

***

            So she danced on the stage, paying no attention to the cat calls of the brutes who frequented the place, showing her wares to people she may have gone to school with but who would never even know her name.  And as she gyrated to the strong beat, she composed a rebuttal to Potions Professor Blinkus of  Durmstrang's unfounded treatise on the uses of Memory Potions.  He didn't seem to realize just how much intent and ingredients relied upon each other.  And when she had that done to her satisfaction, and she had another number coming on, she created a complicated Arithmanthic equation involving the likelihood of Gryffindor's Quidditch team winning its first match next year and the weather a day and a week from now.  And when the music to her final number floated through the air of the dark room, she fixed firmly in her mind's eye the pleased expression that Snape would wear when she gave him back his book. 

***

             Hermione nodded, unsuprised, as she read the letter that an owl must have dropped on her table.  It was the last one from the schools that she had applied to.  She had been invited to sit entrance exams for all of them, based on the quality of the essays she had sent in to them.  This one, crafted so prettily on thick cream paper with ornate gold script, requested her presence at the Oxford University of Magick.  The exam, like the others, would occur some time in early August. Sick days were glared upon by Eldrich, but she had no choice.  This was her final chance at a new life.  And she was going to seize it by the tail, and get all that she could out of it.  

            With a deep sigh, she Banished the letter into a magickal cupboard she had created after her dangerous run-in with Eldrich a little less than four weeks ago.  Magickal schools were known for their promptness in the admissions process; large faculties and few students permitted them to get word back to potentials within a few weeks of their having submitted essays.  Then she pulled out the most recent copies of _Arithmancy__ Archive, _Potions and the World_, and _Transfiguration Today_.  If she had been famous in her school days for her endless revision, she was absolutely mad with it now.  Every spare moment of her days until the exam would be taken up with making sure that she had lost none of the knowledge she had gained at Hogwarts, and brushing up on the latest information that she had no doubt missed out on for the past two years.  She failed to see how there could be a downside to knowing too much._

***

            The day had snuck up on her, and she suddenly realized that she didn't even have a wedding present for her best friend and his soon-to-be bride.  Nor did she really have the money to spare for one.  But such an excuse would never do in her book, no matter how understanding she knew Harry would be.  So she needed to figure something out.  She had requested a day off, and made out with that odious man in return for it.  But it was worth it.  She was so proud of her Harry, and she couldn't wait to see him waiting at the altar.  She knew he would probably chew his lip in that cute little way he did when he was nervous and didn't want anyone to know it.  And she and Ron would look at each other, all three knowing exactly what was going on in each other's mind, just like old times.

            Abruptly, Hermione snorted, the sound ringing in the small room.  Foolishness, all of it.  Realistically, she would show up in Transfigured clothing, as close to the actual starting time of the ceremony as she could to avoid the inevitable awkwardness.  Ron would try to get her to talk to him, she would rebuff him, and they would end up sitting on opposite sides of the room with as many people between as possible.  Hermione would focus on Harry in an effort to ignore the whispers from the other guests about her, and in doing so she would just make him even more nervous.  He would wish that he had never invited her and then she would try to steal as quietly as possible out of Hogwarts, where the wedding was being held.  But she would somehow manage to run  into Snape and he would draw himself up in that way he had and sneer at her like the stupid child she was, and he would know what she did every night, every night now…

            Hermione took a deep breath.  And then another, and then several more, until she was sure she was ready to think rationally.  The wedding would neither be a perfect fairy tale of newly found happiness, nor would it be the terrible angst fest she had just pictured.  It was true, her life had taken a turn for the worse rather than the better since her decision, save for one thing.  One thing of paramount importance.  She had a focus.  She had purpose, she was going somewhere.  And that made all of the difference.  She knew what she wanted, and even if she had to do some things which she would otherwise find abhorrent in order to get it, in the end, the result was all that mattered.  It was her mantra now just as it had been years ago.  Now, she needed to deal with the problem of Harry and Mireille's gift.  Suddenly, an idea popped into her head.  It would require a fair amount of time and an enormous amount of power, but she had plenty of the latter and enough of the former, so she would do it.

            Hermione used the bathroom and then got dressed, not much caring what she wore.  After all, she was merely going down to the drugstore on the corner.  She just needed to purchase a mirror.  The girl figured that pretty much any non-spelled Muggle mirror would work for this.  

            Walking down the street in the early morning, she took in the juxtaposition of the innocuous parts of her neighborhood that were just waking up- and the slightly more dangerous parts that were just going to bed.  Five thirty in the morning but she knew Donald would be up and open.  He tried to keep as wide hours as he could so that he could have as large a clientele as possible.  He also stocked almost anything one could want- if one knew where to look for it in the disorganized room he called his store.  Luckily, Hermione had become good at uncovering abstruse and seemingly unrelated objects, so she didn't have as much difficulty as most.  This had won her the respect of the normally irascible old man.  Entering the store, she took a moment to soak in the lovely chaotic mess.  She was snapped out of it quickly by a sharp voice.

            ''Ere now, woman, do git along with ye if ye have mind to be buyin' somethin'.  Else, get out."

            Hermione smiled pleasantly at the grouchy man as she walked quickly around the room to where she was almost certain she would find what she was looking for.  Ah, yes.  There they were.  A small number, to be sure, but she needed only two.  After several careful minutes of inspection, Hermione chose.  The cheap pieces of glass were identical, set in brushed chrome frames with detachable stands, so that they could be easily put in a pocket or stood on a dresser.  Either way would be useful, if her charm worked properly.  She had gotten it in her mind to create a sort of portable Floo connection.  It was like a muggle cell phone, except that the couple would be able to actually see each other, and the mirrors would never be out of service, something that Hermione's parent's had oft complained about before they had been killed during her seventh year.  She didn't know much about wanting to see another human being, but she knew something of Harry's nature; somewhat starved for love after his years of abuse with his beastly relatives, and she thought that they would appreciate her effort.  Of course, there was always the possibility that Harry had succumbed to one of the beautiful gold-diggers who had been at him since he turned seventeen, and who would enjoy only a rare or expensive gift, but she rather doubted it.  And the gift would, in fact, be rare; she had to tweak and change several of the spells she would use, making it an entirely unique creation.  

            Several hours later, Hermione wavered a bit on her feet, a smile of contentment on her face.  She had needed to drop the cosmetic charms for two reasons, one being that they took up a lot of power that she needed to use to create this gift, and the other being that there was no way she was taking a chance that someone there would connect her with her lounge dancing.  Okay, three reasons, really.  She wanted this to be as close to normal as possible for Harry, and his dark-eyed, dark-haired friend showing up with bleach blond hair and eyes of pale green just might not accomplish that goal.  Despite the exercise of her power that the charms had been, she was tired with the enormous amount she had had to use, but she was fairly certain that the Mirrors would function perfectly.  She glanced at her old watch, and her eyes suddenly widened in alarm.  It was two hours until the four 'o clock ceremony!  She still had to get a shower, Transfigure clothing, do her hair and makeup….  For the next ninety minutes, the flat was full of a rushing Hermione, trying to make sure that she had everything together.  

            Freshly showered, hair brushed back into a neat bun…with the help of several charms, gift wrapped in pretty paper, Hermione prepared to do battle with her wardrobe.  Clothes were rather difficult to change, because they didn't usually *want* to change.  They liked being what they were, and it required a certain level of ability to be able to make them into something else, and force them to keep their shape.  Especially if the outfit had started out as differently as hers had: a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt turned into a grey skirt and square neck line sleeved shirt.  She had been too tired and rushed to add much decoration to the outfit; she had rather gotten past the point where she really cared about what she wore.  As long as she wasn't wearing something that would embarrass Harry (although she figured just her presence at the wedding would accomplish that), she was fine.  Besides, who was she going to impress?

            About to Apparate, Hermione vaguely recalled that she had forgotten to feed herself.  She sighed, hating to waste the time that it took to fix herself something to eat, but still forced herself to make the short walk into her little kitchen area and fix a quick sandwich.  She ate as fast as she could, shaking her head in irritation at the slowness of her chewing pace, wishing there was some way she could just forego this mundane task.  Well, not unless she really had a burning desire to faint in the middle of the ceremony.  She took a big swallow, and a last sip of the soda she had pulled from her fridge, cleared up, ran into the bathroom for a final, awkward check, and then Apparated.  She arrived exactly as planned, ten till four.       

            **I thought that, maybe, with the sort of random title I might explain what my titles are.  I use Beatles songs, because I like the Beatles and I have this great big anthology with weird, weird fan art.  And when I'm done with a chapter, I think about it for a little bit, and then pick out the gist of it, like a theme or main idea that pops into my mind.  And then I go through the book to find a song title that matches it.  And then once I've found a title, I go through the lyrics to see if they work.  And if I can't find a title that I like, then I look for a song that has lyrics that match it.  I am not going to reproduce the lyrics of the song used for this chapter, but its about things not mattering because no one is there, and I thought that that was pretty much what Hermione was feeling, although she still found a reason to go on.  So, having said that, I want to thank all the wonderful people who took the time to review the story and to plead with others to review because it really makes the muses happy.  Authors notes rushed. I'm sorry, but my net is very limited time I have…that wasn't English.  I'm sorry.:**

*Ailene: Thanks, and here you go

*V-volatile: I don't know, I need to work on my characterization of Harry in this fic.  And sorry, but it wasn't Snape.

*JestersTears: I actually have only a few moments on the internet right now, but I cant figure out for the life of me why I didn't respond to your lovely review right away.  It makes me want to go write right now so that you can read and hopefully enjoy, and ashamed that I hadn't posted before now.  You are so sweet, and your review really explained what you like about my fic, and the muses are absolutely high right, now, I can tell you.  I;m sending my best wishes that you are able to find a job soon and I am glad that you also like and are reading ASD…truthfully, this is my favorite as well.  Hope you enjoyed this chapter!!

*Deritine: Well, sure she could get a better *muggle* job if she wanted to, but the Ministry in my world really frowns upon use of magick around Muggles, and therefore she would be unable to practice it and that is not something she is willing to do, if you recall her and Gavin's conversation when he threatens her.  Don't worry about rambling I do it all the time, and I'm not sure how the wedding is going to go, I'm writing it as I…er…I'm writing it.  

*Q: Thanks, and at the moment Hermione is depressed and self-pitying.  Er, she was. I hope this chapter did what you said, because right now, Hermione is beginning to take back all the control of her life, and not be so self-pitying, and her new persona has told me its really fun, but I don't know yet, haven't gotten that far.  And warning, this isn't going to turn in to a power chick fic, sorry:D

*M0r1ath: Interesting sn. Sorry, but it is still going to take a while (I think) for them to start kissing like…er…frenzied ferrets :D  Glad you like it, and I promise that there *will* be romance, but I want Hermione back on track before anything else happens, I think that's really important.

*Mylin: I;m so glad and I hope you enjoyed

*Sam: Well, that's the point, the guy is very rude.  Glad you like the pace, I;m not a very experienced writer, so I;m trying my first long story.  I don't use the thesaurus all that often, but I am such an avid reader that it happens; I hope it doesn't get to confusing or pointlessly long-worded.  Tell me if it does.

*Eternal Queen: Here is the continuation.  Well, since they had to form a working relationship b/c Harry is with the school a lot; recall Harry and Hermione's conversation when she admits that she spent the last two days with Snape.

*Dixiehnsnluvr  Woohoo!  I'm glad.

*Landry Anne: Oh yes, I've done that.  Hm, I hope you didn't think it was the Dark Mark.  Remember, Severus was there that night, and he knows what went on, which I think will play into the fic later.  Sorry if I disappointed you.  Hope you did well on the project, and for the record I am taking time when I ought to be writing a speech, so…nyahJ  Thank you.

*MadAboutHarry: Yeah, well…they're so freaking FUN:D  She is really insecure, especially because, as I mention in this chapter, the things that happened to her with the Death Eaters, and the way her life has just generally gone crappily.  I am trying not to make it uber pathetic and unbelievable, thence the reason she is starting a new life now.  I hope you like this chapter

*Madeleine Jete: I'm sure you would like to know that I am so stupid I had to look up what Deus Ex Machina.  So, thank you for expanding my knowledge, and I am trying damned hard to stay away from them; I had to rewrite a chapter three times because it did that every single time…  And muses are not always fun, they can be demanding and bitchy and terrible, trust meJ  Thanks for the praise, and my studies…well…*snort* the world won't end with a B- on…two tests… *Tracy: Hehe, sort of unintentional ending, the muses stop it where they will, but I;m glad that you want more.

*Redone: Yeah, all right, probably lost you with the disgusting amount of time that it took me to do this.  Sorry!

*Candace: Thanks muchly for the email, it made me and the muses very, very happy.  I love RENT (your signature…).  Just had to mention that, sorry.  Now I am off to post and then do…surprise: More homework!  Thanks for the sympathy.  Hope that you like this chapter as well.  


	8. When I'm 64

**_Disclaimer: Not mine, its Hers, get real._**

**Ack****, I've had a mathematical crises, and it isn't quite resolved yet, and I have dance class, so even though I finished writing this on Sunday..or Monday, the days run together during break, it might not get out until Wednesday night, for which I am sorry.  A few things to know: I love French, and have been taking it for years, but I am not all that good at it, and so the few sentences in the aforementioned language are probably incorrect.  Translations are down at the bottom of the page, before my review replies.  Also, for some reason, my timetable is completely screwed up.  I've been using the 2001 calendar, and yet it occurs to me that two years after Hermione's graduation would be 2000, so God knows where I got that.  *sigh*.  So, we'll just have to pretend that its correct, cause I cant change it all now, and I'm sorry.  Lets see, what else…oh!  I found out recently on the Harry Potter Lexicon that JK Rowling actually said that there were no wizarding universities.  I'm sorry, should I classify this as AU or something?  There's no way I can change my whole fic now, I wish I had known that before I had started.  Oh well, c'est la vie.  Also, I don't think it really gets as hot as I say it does in ****Scotland****, but I have no idea.  I apologize profusely for all my ignorance, mistakes, and Americanisms, and hope y'all know that you're free to point them out to me, especially if it's a pet peeve.  Sorry for this long AN, enjoy the story, and if you want to be notified of future updates, please tell me in your review or at amariran@yahoo.com .  Thanks!  **

When I'm 64

            Hermione arrived just in time for what looked to be the last boat going across the lake to the school.  She had planned it that way, and was glad that she hadn't been too late.  One hand was clutching her grey Transfigured handbag, the other a small gift bag with the Mirrors in it.  There were three other people just getting into the boat when she Apparated, a man and two women.  They were all dressed in very expensive looking clothes, making Hermione feel dowdy.  But she had learned poise, if nothing else, in her time as a dancer, and she did not let her discomfort appear.

            "Qu'est-ce qu'elle porte?" the woman asked her friend in a none-too subtle undertone.  After all, it wasn't as though the English wizard would have any idea what she was saying.  English muggles may have need of other languages, but wizards of any nationality rarely saw reason to invest the time in learning a language not their own when they could scrape by with a translating charm.  But the woman hadn't muttered any charms, so she would have no idea what they were talking about.  

            "Quoi, tu me dit ça ses vêtements ne sont pas a la mode ?" her companion quipped sarcastically.  "Et ses cheveux sont terrible.  Est-ce que tu peux penser de sortir chez toi comme ça?  Mais…je pense ça je l'ai vue quelque part.  Ou…ou…  Hm.  Oh !˝ here the woman's voice took on the tone of someone with a juicy piece of gossip.  "Sa figure est familier parce qu'elle était le Head Girl de Hogwarts, '98.  Oui !"  The woman nodded emphatically as her friend raised a doubting eyebrow to her recollection.  They both snuck a look at the oblivious mousy brunette in the corner of the self-steering boat and giggled.  Mireille had invited them because she couldn't very well leave her first cousins, by her mother's only sibling out of her wedding, according to Harry, but she had damned well wanted to.  She had made up for it by telling them that they were absolutely not allowed to come before ten to four.  Neither had particularly cared, as they certainly weren't enamored of their mother's sister's daughter, annoying girl that she was.  Always too stuck up to gossip, and too stupid to even _follow the really good gossip.  The woman crossing the lake with them had been one of the biggest scandals in a while.  Between that and meeting THE Harry Potter, they were overjoyed._

            The man sat, lost in his own thoughts, ignoring his sisters.  He had always been fond of his youngest cousin, and hoped she did well on this marriage.  She didn't seem the type to marry for fame, but he had heard his sisters' talking of Harry Potter, and had followed some of the more legitimate stories on the news himself.  Well, he would just reserve his judgment until he met the man, although since his sisters had been all but banned from going to the wedding early, that would be after the ceremony.  Fuck, did those women ever stop talking?  His sisters they may be, but absolute bitches he could but acknowledge.  He was just glad that the woman they were talking about couldn't understand a word of what they were saying.  After their discovery of her identity, they had engaged in an in-depth discussion of just what she had done to gain such infamy, emphasizing the accusations of sleeping with her teachers for her position and propositioning her boss, of course.  He had read the articles, since he often read English papers in his job at the French Ministry of Magick, but it hadn't really rung true to him.  Still, he didn't know the girl, so his opinion didn't really matter.  He looked at her now.  It was true that her clothing, while presentable, was nowhere near fine enough for a wedding of this status.  And it didn't seem to fit her; that is, the conservative, almost frumpy style and the grey coloring.  He peered a little closer at the woman, who was leaning against the side of the boat with her eyes closed as though she was having a light rest.  Her brown hair seemed a little faded, like she had dyed it or something, and he could easily see the marks of stress around her face; wrinkles that shouldn't be on someone who graduated high school in 1998.  He remembered hearing about her incredible exam scores when they were released; his department liked to keep an eye on up and coming people in the international magickal community, one of the reasons he often read foreign newspapers.  And he saw her pale, pale hands clench almost imperceptibly when his sisters made a disgustingly crude comment about her.  Ah.  He would bet his life that she understood exactly what they were saying, and he wasn't a betting man.  If only the silly girls would keep quiet for once!

            "Are you a friend of the bride, or the groom, miss?" his English was perfect, of course, but his tone bespoke a definite French accent.  Her eyes snapped open.

            "I'm Harry's… acquaintance.  But you knew that, didn't you?" she replied, with a darted glance at his sisters, seated on one side of the boat, talking to each other, oblivious to anything but their own conversation, nasty bits of which occasionally drifted over their own.  

            "Yes.  They're…tactless.  My sisters, I'm afraid.  You speak French?"

            "Yes."  She seemed disinclined to continue the conversation, but he was intrigued.  He began to stand up, intending to introduce himself, when he saw her eyes widen and her frantic motions to stay seated.  Sadly, they were just a few seconds too late.  The boat began to rock from side to side, in progressively heavier movements as his frenzied struggle to retake his seat led to destabilizing the boat further.  His sisters sat frozen, fearing for their very outfits as a wave slipped over the side of the small craft.  The English woman composedly whipped out her wand and paused.  For a moment, he was worried that the rumors of her having slept her way to power were true, and that she didn't have any magickal ability, but then she muttered the charm she had taken the second to recall.  The boat lifted off the water, but with such control that he was able to stay standing as they sailed over the remainder of the lake until they hit the dock.  Well, hit was too strong of a word.  They were set down gently.  The two women stared with wide eyes at the powerful witch they had shared the boat ride across with.  She merely stood up carefully, grabbing one side of the boat to keep her balance, and walked off to the castle a few yards away.  

            Edouard exited the boat a moment after her, wondering why she had completely ignored his hand out of the boat.  True, he had been a fool for standing up in a boat, but that was hardly a high crime.  He half-turned back, ready to help his siblings disembark, but thought the better of it when he saw the figure ahead of him, which had strode so confidently off the dock, waver in its path, and begin to veer a little.  He ran forward.

            Hermione supposed she was lucky.  She had forgotten the limits of her power; the gift for Harry and Mireille really had taken a lot out of her, as had the Transfiguration, and she hadn't eaten enough to really replenish herself.  And so when she had performed the spell on the boat, which normally would have been only a strain on her, but hardly crippling, she was exhausted.  She had walked off the boat as quickly as possible, hoping to get somewhere and collapse quietly, but naturally she possessed no such fortune.  She was, however, lucky that he had caught her. How he had known to run to her she wasn't sure, but as she lay across his arms, she was glad.  For a moment.

            The girl quickly threw herself out of his arms, turning around to face him with a frosty politeness.

            "Thank you.  Have a nice day."  She turned back around and prepared to walk although it was clear that she was not yet recovered when a hand came around her shoulders.  Try as she might to suppress it, a scream ripped from her throat.  It seemed to echo in her mind, and she thought that everyone heard her shame, but the magnification of the soft cry was mental only.  But it was certainly loud enough for Edouard to hear.  Instead of removing his arm, however, he moved in front of her so that she could see exactly who it was who was stabilizing her.  He had remembered, too late again it would seem, a tale that had gone around about the details of how she and Potter and Weasley had defeated the Dark Lord.  The official report that was released to the world was extremely vague, but things tended to leak.  One never knew what was true and what was not, though.  Grabbing her from behind had been an even dumber idea than standing up in a boat- a boat didn't know a wide selection of painful curses, and he was sure that she did.

            "But we have not been properly introduced. That was what I had meant to do, in my stupidity, for which I hope you will excuse me.  I am Edouard Decriste, Mireille's cousin on her mother's side.  Would you please allow me to escort you to your seat?  I have heard that that charm takes such an amount of power from one's self that it can cause slight dizziness afterwards."  He smiled as charmingly as he knew how at her, hoping to convince her.  He was chivalrous enough to not want her to fall flat on her face in front of the other guests.  He saw the hesitation run across her face, but she agreed with a soft yes.

            She reluctantly told him that she wanted to see Harry before the ceremony, so they went in search of him.  Edouard had attended Beauxbatons and had never had the fortune to see Hogwarts, but it seemed a perfectly nice castle.  Exactly what one would think of when ancient English architecture came to mind.  A little crude, a little obnoxious in its overt show of power, but other than that he thought it was perfectly fine.  And certainly the cool sanctuary of the inside was a nice respite from the blistering late July heat.  He looked around with interest, noticing how the woman his arm was wrapped around paused to soak in the atmosphere like a thirsty plant after a long dry spell.  

            "He's probably somewhere in Gryffindor," she spoke quietly, knocking him off his train of thought and nudging him in the familiar direction of what had been her home for the larger part of seven years.  They moved slowly, although he was more than capable of supporting her thin frame as they walked.  Still, it did not take them very long to enter the common room, where the Fat Lady, still the guardian of her little Gryffindors, allowed them entrance, telling Hermione how glad she was to see her and that Harry was up in his old room.  Passwords were unneeded when there were no students to protect in the Tower.  As they stepped in to the cheerful common room, Hermione suppressed a wave of nostalgia.  Today was not about relieving the past, but a hopeful future for her best friend.  She turned to Edouard.

            "Would you mind horribly-."  He cut her off before she could finish the question which she obviously did not want to ask.

            "Of course not.  I have read in the papers about what great friends you were, and I am sure that you want to be there for him.  I can wait here." He smiled and released her, fairly certain that she could support herself a little on her own.  He walked to a comfortable looking chair, although it was in an eye-smarting shade of scarlet, and pulled out a book which he had Reduced and stuck in his pocket in the vain hope that he would be able to find time to read it.  She smiled a little at him, and he got the sense that she had been unused to the expression as of late.  And then he recalled that he barely knew her, and thought that he might like to correct that.  He smiled a little bit, knowing that she was not around to see him, and immersed himself in the pages.

            Hermione had enough of her ability to cast a quick charm on herself that would allow her to appear physically fine.  Mentally, though, she was not certain how she would react to Harry and Ron- or how they would react to her.  She heard voices coming from the boy's dormitory and couldn't suppress a wide grin.  No, this was Harry's day; everything would go perfectly.

            Harry and Ron stopped talking as soon as the door opened, both turning to see who it was.  Mireille had already been in several minutes ago to make sure that Harry was fine before she went and put her gown on, so they knew it wasn't her.  As Hermione's head popped around the big door, the slightly apprehensive looks on the faces of the two men who had grown up under the threat of an evil megalomaniac turned into grins of incredibly happy proportions.  Hermione's face underwent a similar change, and all three were now simple staring at each other, the door closed and it all feeling right for just a few moments.  It was like old times when they had held clandestine meetings in Harry and Ron's dorm.  But never before had two of them been wearing their finest dress robes, one in groom's style.

            Hermione was the first to break the silence.  "Harry, I don't give a damn whether it's cheesy to say, but I have never seen a handsomer groom than the one that I am looking at."  Ron affected mock hurt as Harry pretended to preen.

            "But what about when it's _my_ turn, 'Mione?" he whined, causing him to receive a whack from his two best friends.  Laughing, he put his arms over his head in vain defense of himself.  "All right, just a joke!"

            "Hermione, I know that you…didn't want to come, but I want to let you know that it means so incredibly much to me that you are here.  You, and Ron, and Sirius and Remus; my family."  Hermione bit her lip for a moment before shaking her head.

            "No, Harry.  I want to be here with all of my heart and soul.  I just don't want to embarrass you with my presence.  And before you say anything" here she held up a hand to forestall the denials bubbling at the lips of both of her best friends," it's true.  But I had to come anyways, because I love you both so much."  She finished with a weak smile, wondering what would come next, when she felt herself pulled in to a tight group hug.  For a moment, Hermione thought she was back in school, with them all getting together after some harrowing adventure or other.  All three leaned in to each other for a moment and savored the moment before returning to the cold adult world.  "Harry, Ron- I want to tell you right now…  Please don't ask what I've been doing.  Just leave it alone.  I'm taking care of myself, and that's all you need to know."  Hermione looked at the two boys with wariness shadowing her already shadowed eyes, relieved to see expressions of compassion on their handsome faces.  "So, Melanie is here, right Ron?" she asked cheerfully.  Her two old friends shifted around a bit uncomfortably.  Ron cleared his throat before answering.

            "We, uh, broke up, 'Mione.  About a month ago."  It had clearly been a painful breakup, and one that Ron had been trying to put behind him.  Hermione felt like shit for bringing it up and looked at her friend with a mortified expression.

            "Oh, Ron-I'm so sorry.  I didn't mean to-."

            "Just leave it, Hermione.  Look, no harm done."  Here, Ron looked at the odd wizarding watch he wore.  "Its about time for the ceremony.  Best of luck, Harry; I'll see you up at the altar." He gave his friend one last hug before rushing out of the castle to await his part in the ceremony.  Hermione was left alone with Harry.

            "Hermione- I don't know how long it will take for this all to blow over, but I know it will.  I know that one day, you will be free to walk around Diagon Alley without whispers.  Maybe with Mireille and my children... because you know you will be a godmother, right?"  Harry looked at her, seriousness in every line in his young face, tinged with the hopefulness of a man about to embark in one of the most wondrous events on life.  Hermione pushed her normally skeptical self out the window to be burned in the bright light and just folded her Harry into her arms.  Then she pushed him away and smoothed him out with a quick straightening spell.  He nodded his thanks at her.  "I need a few minutes to think.  Tell the organist that we're going to start the ceremony a few minutes late.  Just ten, maybe.  I'll be ready then, promise."  Hermione forbore another hug, and opted to give him a quick peck on the cheek.  She understood perfectly his wish for solitude and was happy to grant his request. 

            Ambling down the stairs in a much better condition than she had ascended them, Hermione discovered that she had forgotten the polite stranger from the boat.  Edouard.  She wasn't certain what she thought of him.  He was obviously a few years older than her, but only a few.  He was handsome enough, with boyish, flopping brown hair and sharp eyes of a slightly lighter color.  Several inches taller than her, but then, most people were.  French, and with a certain amount of taste- as well as the ability to ignore stupid rumors.  And once he got to know…  She couldn't let that happen.  She smiled with ice cold politeness as he turned from his thick book to her at her cough.  

            "Again, I must thank you for your assistance.  I am quite recovered, however, and require no further help."  Hermione was about to turn and stride calmly out of the room, when his voice arrested her movement.

            "Ah, but you owe me."  Bloody hell, did she have a _sign_ attached to her that said 'sleazy morons apply here' or something?  She opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind, when he finished his sentence.  "Coffee, perhaps?  Time and place at your convenience."  He saw her about to refuse.  "Please, consider a moment."  He was almost surprised when she complied, a pensive look crossing her face.

            Hermione thought for a moment.  She would be sitting her exams in about a week, and that seemed like the perfect time to start her new life.  She just had to figure out a way to mask herself and still meet with the man.  Hermione was not one given to letting her gaze wander while she pondered serious matters, but just this once she did.  And her eyes chanced to light upon those of Edouard, frank and hopeful, but not insistent.  And somehow…she wanted to tell him what she was planning to do.  She wanted someone to know that she could change her life around.  And, if she were to be honest with herself, she wanted someone to know that it was really _her_ achieving all that would be credited to Calypso Anastasia; a name that she had chosen after careful thought and was secretly proud of.  Calypso meant 'concealer' in Greek, and Anastasia 'resurrection' in the same language.  It was quite fitting, she thought.  But what it really meant was that after she was, hopefully, enrolled at Oxford University of Magick, she would have an entirely new life- and would never return to her old one.  She wasn't a fool- she knew that it would be painful, but she also knew that it was necessary.  And if one, just one single person could know the truth…it would make it all so much easier.  

            "Look, the ceremony is about to start and I really don't want to miss any part of it, but I _would_ like to talk to you.  I'm not going to the reception, but I'm sure there will be a few moments after the ceremony, if…if you don't mind."  Towards the end of her statement Hermione became unsure of herself, realizing that she had no right to request anything from this near stranger, nor unburden herself upon him, either.  But to her surprise, he nodded and gave her an assuring smile.  They walked out together to the ceremony, held outside with the aid of an abundance of Cooling Charms.  Edouard left Hermione seated in the front and found a seat on the other side of the aisle with the rest of his family before the processional began- ten minutes late, as Hermione had instructed the organist before the pair had made their way to seats.

              Hermione did not cry during the ceremony.  She did not feel the need to.  However, she was grinning so brilliantly that it was a wonder she didn't blind her two 

best friends standing up near the altar.  Wizarding ceremonies were quite similar to muggle customs, with the addition of spells cast by all of the wedding party to ensure happiness, well-being and love, designed to ensure long standing marriages in the wizarding community.  And when Dumbledore pronounced those final words of the ceremony, the equivalent to the muggle 'you are now man and wife' and told Harry that he could kiss his bride, Hermione found herself immediately approving of the girl that Harry, though normally reserved in his public displays of affection, took in his arms and bent down for a movie star kiss in front of a crowd of his friends and 'family'…and the prerequisite ob of reporters lurking in the back.  And just as she had imagined, she met Ron's eyes as they both stared at their best friend.  But his eyes quickly turned penetrating, in a way that she had never remembered when looking at her.  Sort of like the gaze he had turned on Snape when he wasn't looking in class after they had discovered that he was a Death Eater- and spying for the light.  As though he was trying to figure out just what was up with the person.  As though he wasn't sure whether she was good or evil.  As fast as she could, she dropped her eyes, looking for somewhere else to shift her gaze as the wedding broke up, to be reconvened in the Great Hall for a reception.  She saw Snape lurking on the fringe of the crowd, and she could tell that he was making at least a moderate effort to be pleasant at the wedding of his friend.  She almost went up to him to ask…well, she wasn't sure what she would have said, but it didn't matter.  His eyes, looking through the mass of people in the indifferent, superior way they always had, dismissively slid over her as though she meant nothing.  Her breath, strangely, caught in her throat though she could not for the life of her figure out why it hurt her so much.  Then she felt a hand on her shoulder, and she turned fast.  It was Edouard, of course.  She had been so caught up in the ceremony that all thoughts of him had simply floated out of her mind.  So.  What was she to tell this handsome, brightly smiling fellow who had inexplicably asked her for coffee when none of her friends could even meet her eyes.

***

            "And so…so I think that the best thing for me to do is disappear."  He nodded at her and then paused.

            "But I thought that you said you didn't want to go back to the muggle world."  He left his statement open, allowing her to turn it into a question or not, as she wished.  She chose to answer him.

            "I-I've applied.  For college.  Like I said, it's hard supporting myself with the jobs I'm holding now, and I really was a good student at Hogwarts."  

            "Oh, really?  Have you gotten entrance invitations yet?"

            "Yes."

            "May I inquire as to where..?" he prompted her gently.

            "All of them," she whispered, with a blush.  They were sitting in a shadowed corner of the room, away from the main festivities, although Hermione was seated so that she could keep a close eye on Harry and Mireille, for she liked to watch the simple love that shone from their eyes as they looked at each other.  But a part of her was saddened, because it knew that she would never find love like that.  

            "Pardon?"  He barely believed his ears.  There were few people who applied to wizarding colleges, so any who did were usually the top of their class.  Competition for the very selective spots was quite fierce, as he well knew.  

            "The preliminary essays I wrote were deemed acceptable by the all of the schools I applied to.  Um, Oxford, Stonehenge, Salem, Madrid, Beijing, Alexandria.  Those are all that I applied to.  I really want to get into Oxford, though."  Edouard let out a low whistle.  She had just named some of the top schools in the international magickal community.  Getting into any one of them would be an incredible accomplishment.  And yet he somehow believed that this tired, faded girl who admitted to supporting herself by doing bar work (he suspected something else, from the way her eyes avoided his as she spoke of it, but he certainly wasn't going to press her for details) would have those prestigious colleges knocking down her door, begging her to go to their school.  And he found himself drawn to her.  He himself was fairly popular with his female coworkers, many of whom were quite attractive, while he had to admit this girl was not, but there was something about her that drew his attention anyways.  

            "And you are worried that they won't accept 'Hermione Granger' is that so?"  She nodded, and he frowned, perplexed.  "So what will you do?  Re-invent yourself?"  He gave a little laugh, which ended when he saw her large eyes staring at him solemnly.

            "Yes, basically.  I have new papers and everything, and those are what I used to apply to the schools.  I plan on beginning a new life.  I…I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to burden you with all of this.  You barely know me; you shouldn't have to pretend to care!  Have a good-."  He grabbed her arm to keep her from leaving, pulling her back to where she had been sitting beside him.  

            "It doesn't matter that I barely know you.  Besides, I feel like I've known you forever, just from talking to you for a bit."  He chuckled softly.  "I sound ridiculous, of course.  But perhaps you can find it in your heart to forgive me.  My countrymen have something of a reputation for foolish, romantic notions."  Hermione smiled at him, genuinely, for the first time in their acquaintance.  

            "I told you, because I needed someone to be able to connect the two.  Someone who knew that Calypso Anastasia" she paused and looked at him to make sure that he understood that that was her new identity "is really me, Hermione Granger.  And maybe, maybe talk to someone, sometimes, who knows about the real me."  She bit her lip, an uncommonly self-conscious gesture on her part as she looked at the man next to her.

            "I'd like that a lot.  Owl me."  He gave her a small smile and slipped his business card into her hand.  "Now, I believe the groom, who I have not yet had the chance to congratulate, or even meet, is coming over with my dear cousin for a word with you."

            "Mione!  You've decided to stay.  Thank you so much."  Harry gave her a sparkling smile, Mireille held firmly against his side as he made his rounds of all the guests.  He had saved her for last.

            "Oh, no, Harry I couldn't do that, I told you that I wouldn't and it would be an imposition, I just needed to ask Edouard something and I wanted a chance to speak to Mireille," she babbled.  She really had wanted to meet Mireille, but now she looked so rude in front of the girl, suddenly deciding to stay for their reception.  Then Harry moved very close.

            "Hermione Granger, I have told you this so many times the words must be imprinted in that giant brain of yours somewhere.  You are family.  If you need to go, I understand, but otherwise, I would really love it if you could stay.  After all, I need my best female friend to dance the second dance with, don't I?" he asked her mischievously, knowing how much she hated to dance.  

            "If you're sure…"

            "I am," he said firmly.                                                                        

            "Then yes, I'll stay."  

            "Mireille, come over here and meet Hermione Granger, my first real female friend."  Harry had detached himself from his bride for a moment as she had a little tete a tete with her older cousin.  Hermione got her first close up look at the woman Harry believed would make him happy for the rest of his life.  Funny thing was, jaded and cynical as she was, she believed it too.  The two girls smiled at each other, although there was some awkwardness when Mireille went to hug her husband's best friend and Hermione, far more reserved, went to shake hands, but it was sorted out good naturedly.  Hermione was content to sit out the first dance, with Edouard by her side, and watch her best friends dance.  He had realized that she did not like to dance, and so had not pressured her, content to converse.  Ron was with one of Mireille's beautiful cousins who were all too eager to dance with the handsome war hero.  And then the next song struck up, and Harry deposited his wife with her father, and laughingly tugged the reluctant Hermione up and onto the dance floor, insisting he was wearing sturdy boots so she didn't have to worry.  A mock swat and a sarcastic comment later and Harry and Hermione were dancing to the fast beat with happy grins on their faces.  She figured she might have one last kick for old time's sake…before she disappeared.       

***

**TRANSLATIONS: What is she wearing?**

**What, you're telling me that her clothes aren't in style?  And her hair, its terrible.  Can you think of leaving your house like that?  But…I think I've seen her somewhere.  Where, where.  Oh!  Her face is familiar because she was the Hogwarts Head Girl of '98.  Yes! (but y'all knew that part, didn't you?).**

**Okay, now, about Edouard.  I promise that this will eventually be an HG/SS romance, but it seems that it will take a little longer to get there than I had previously thought.  He insisted on showing up, and he didn't want to leave.  Do y'all hate him?  **

**Thanks to all my lovely reviewers:**

**Eirete****: I'm so glad that you think its worth it, and that you think my characterizations are good.  Hm, I had tried to make that fact (which you are absolutely correct about) clear the last chapter, but I will try again in the next one, thanks.  Maybe when she gets a little more distance and perspective, she will be able to openly say that.  Woohoo, we won't mention that not only do I want my readers to utilize their wonderful imaginations, but I'm bad at physical descriptions.  Oh, goodness; I stayed up too late the other night, and I've done that reading fanfiction, so I can only thank you for taking the time to give me such thoughtful comments on the story.  And Ron might be a good addition to the story, and I would love to accommodate you, but he doesn't speak to me much; Harry, Hermione, Snape, and Edouard do.  If he speaks and tells me what he wants to do, I can but promise you I will listen.  Oh, wow; on your favorite stories list?  Thank you!:)**

**Deritine****: Yeah, I'm not all that good with finances myself, to be honest.  And there will still be challenges for Hermione, but her life is turning around.  Hey, I think her alter identity is weird as well, but it happened.  *shrug*.  Glad you don't mind the wait in between chapter, thanks for your comments.**

**Emma: There's a thought, I've still got to title this one.  Depends on how the chapter goes, though****J  Hey, one of my best friends is a strange Beatle loving person, and I love her to death****J**

**V-volatile: you're insane and I love you.**

**Jana B. : Why, thank you!**

**Madeleine Jete: No, it's understandable; I messed with the title for the first chapter and put girl instead of man, cause man didn't fit.  Oh, no, bet it's gonna get stuck in my head now.  Whew, glad that I got Arithmancy right****J  ack, my computer shut down and I had 20 minutes to get ready, so I'm home now and able to finish replying.  If I don't get electrocuted from the storm.   Glad you like the Beatles songs, and don't think I'm stupid.  And yeah, apprenticeship is a word, but I know that your choice is a lot more thought out than Hermione's, and thus will have much better results; good luck to you in that.  **

**Clarity: Glad you liked it, and yes, there probably will be more angst ahead, but I am also trying really hard not to do.  I find it damned hard to not give in to the impulse!**

**Labrisa:P**** No, I understand the need for fluff, you don't sound like an idiot.  I tend to write more serious stuff, but there should definitely be some happy moments in this story; as I've told others, I try not to overdo the angst.  **

**MadAboutHarry****: The muses laughed and jumped at the happy dance.  Hope you approve of what happens at the wedding, and I'm glad the pity party is done as well, but I cant promise that it is gone forever, since she still has a lot of issues to work through.  **


	9. Anytime At All

**_Disclaimer: Oh, give me a break.  Not mine, her's._**

**Ok, well…lateness.  Yeah.  Over three month's lateness…*winces and ducks flying objects*.  Life has been incredibly busy; between school and debate my life was virtually non-existent.  And, plus, I sort of lost the muses for a little bit; I just wasn't sure where I was going with this story and how to get there.  However, I have already started on the next chapter, so there oughtn't to be any lag like this last time; but all I will say is that I promise not to totally abandon the fic; that it will, eventually, no matter how long it takes me, get to its conclusion.  And by the way, your guess is as good as mine on both what and when that will be *grin*.  I've taken some closer time on my proofreading for this chapter, watching it on ellipses and long paragraphs, so please tell me whether there is an overabundance of either of them or any other constructive or even nonconstructive comments that you have for me- I love feedback, and I have responded to previous stuff at the bottom, as always.  And, as always, if you wish to be notified of my mercurial updates, either tell me in your review (!) or email me at amariran@yahoo.com .  Oh, one more thing: my best friend pointed out that the name that Hermione chose for herself (Calypso Anastasia) was rather flowery and would attract attention rather than aid in her concealment, but if anyone else had this thought, I will tell you the same thing that I told her: because this is the wizarding world, and I'm sure we have all noticed that JKR's characters tend towards odd names, this is a normal type name, actually (I mean, really; how many 'Albus Dumbledores' do you run into on a regular basis?).  Oh, and one more thing..no, two: IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ: There are a few things, clearly, that are out of cannon with OOtP, please tell me if you would like me to change them or if I can leave it as is.  ALSO, there are two spellings to the word magic.  I prefer the Old English spelling, because I believe that 'Magick' is far more evocative of the feelings and true meaning of the word than the insipid modern spelling.  It's something of a pet peeve to see this labeled as a 'mistake' or 'misspelling'; I like to think that I have a little more care for the English Language than to engage in a *perpetual* misspelling (I, of course, often make mistakes, though).  Having said that, I thank those readers who felt it was there duty to point out an obvious failing in my writing; it is, just not that one…   Thanks, sorry, continue!  **

**Anytime At All**

            The rain poured down the small window of her flat in gloomy, uninspired pathways.  How…amusingly ironic, Hermione thought.  For it was the day of her rendezvous with Edouard.  In just a few moments, she would be meeting the man at a bar of his choice; she would be Apparating to the French Ministry of Magick, where she had found out that he worked.  The timing was as dissimilar to her meeting with Snape as could be since she was utilizing her free night.  Still, the thought of that ill-fated lunch made Hermione hesitate.  Perhaps it was the thought of something that never was- and never could be- that set her in such a melancholy mood on a day when she ought to overjoyed by the proximity of her first true date in, well, recent (and admittedly not so recent) recollection.  And with a handsome, charming man who listened to her and cared and…  

            To be honest, Hermione felt that perhaps it as just all too good to be true.  All her life, every time things started to go just a little too well, some brutal twist of fate sent her back into despair.  And at the moment, everything was going well.  She was making money, and so she was able to keep fending off Eldrich's advances purely because he thought with his pocket book even more than with his sex drive, if by only a little bit.  True, she felt nauseous every time she had to dance, felt the wrongness of it within the core of her being, but she also knew that it was what she had to do.  She had not, of course, told Edouard.  Perhaps the secret shadows of her life that she could share with no one were part of the reason she was standing at the window of her apartment and watching the gloomy weather beat the glass with an mirroring gloomy look on her face.

            Then the alarm that she had set for herself, exactly two minutes before she was to meet him in the Receiving Room of the Ministry, went off, and Hermione nearly jumped a foot in the air.  Her skirt was pretty enough, as was the top she wore; she had slowly begun to make the transition from dowdy by day waitress and slut by night dancer, to a normal girl about her age.  It would take her a while to truly change her wardrobe so that she was happy with it, not to mention the money that it was going to cost, but this was a start.  She smoothed the light cotton down as she took a deep breath, and then Apparated.

***

            Edouard glanced at the clock on the wall for what was probably the umpteenth time.  He had tried to convince Hermione- it delighted him to think that after spending the wedding reception with her they were on a first name basis, were friends - to go out to dinner with him, but she had opted for a drink instead, and he had realized that pushing would be the exact wrong thing to do.  He had picked out the perfect place; nice, but not particularly fancy, and with a casual ambience that he felt she would like.  She needed to relax more- even from knowing her just a little while he could tell that; and, well, he had not been lying when he had told her that he felt as thought he had known her for far longer than he had.  Speaking of them becoming friends, he wondered where it was that he wanted this relationship to go.  There was something oddly compelling about the girl, although she admitted that she used complex cosmetic charms in her work through fear of recognition, which often caused hair fading and the like.  It was a bit odd, he thought, that she was so adamant about keeping her identity secret in her new jobs, but he supposed that she was just that ashamed of menial labor.  Still, despite all that, he could tell that she was quite pretty and would be even more so in the right clothes.  Overall, she intrigued him, and he was excited to see where tonight would go.  Thus was his excuse for checking the clock yet one more time.

***

            When Hermione finally met Edouard, she was quite pleased with his reaction to her simple but elegant look, even if the clothing _was rather cheap in her opinion.  Still, it was an improvement and she was satisfied to have it noticed and approved by her companion as he led her out with an amiable nod to the guard and a friendly hand on her arm.  They strolled in the balmy air of Paris, for he told her that the place that he had chosen was but a few blocks away, and Hermione certainly did not mind a little walk; if nothing else, she was in the best physical shape of her life.  She had even taken to doing exercises and muscle stretches in her free time.  At first, both seemed disinclined to speak to the other, lost in their own thoughts, but they slowly opened up._

            "Oh, my goodness…"  Hermione muttered under her breath as a wild teen muggle walked past with purple spiked hair.  She was hardly a prude, but she *was* conservative enough to think that such adornments were rather ridiculous.  Amusingly enough, outwardly straight-laced Edouard didn't seem to agree.  He turned to her in surprise, although neither stopped to gawk at the girl.

            "Do you think it's strange?  I think it's rather cool, myself.  I must admit that it is not something that I would do to my own hair, but it _is_ fascinating."

            "Hm.  I don't know…I think that I just believe that there are certain colors that simply do not belong on someone's head."  Hermione fixed a mock serious look at Edouard as he halted their progress in front of a gilt door.  "And by the way, are you *certain* that you wouldn't consider dying your hair?  I do believe you would look quite striking in, say, pumpkin orange?"  Hermione and Edouard shared a laugh as they both went in to the small bar.

            Edouard smiled at the hostess as she walked up to the couple with a cheerful expression on her face.  

            "Monsieur  Decriste, comment t allez vous?  Est-ce que vous voulez un table pour deux près votre place normale ? »

            « Non, pas aujourd'hui, je regrette.  Nous voulons seulement des apéritifs.  Je suis content, et vous ? »  Edouard asked the girl, who often worked shifts at the same time he stopped in for a drink or a meal when he worked late as she led them to the smooth polished wooden bar in the side room of the restaurant.
    
                   "Oui, très.  Merci.  Ah, voilà, vos places.  Passez une bonne soirée.»  And with a polite nod, the girl went back to the small stand near the door, ready to welcome the next guests, who trickled in at a fairly steady pace.

            "You come here often?" Hermione asked as they waited for the attention of the bartender.

            "When I get out of work late, yes.  It gets lonely, sometimes, to come home to a late dinner in my apartment.  Mother offered to let me stay with her, but…"  He trailed off but Hermione was already nodding with empathy, at least with the first part of his statement.  She too knew how frustrating it was to come home to cold rooms and silence.  

            "I know the feeling.  Well, the empty apartment anyways."  Edouard looked at her with a silent question in his eyes.  "Ah, my parent were… murdered in my seventh year at Hogwarts, shortly before Voldemort was defeated.  They left their estate in its entirety to my older cousin who was almost like a daughter to them, because she and her husband have, er, financial difficulties, and they never guessed that I would ever need help…that I would end up in a situation like this."  She smiled at his empathetic nod, mirroring her own moments before.  She had never been on very good terms with Arianna and her deadbeat husband, but her mother had been very attached to her youngest sister's child and she had felt no need to contest the will, since it made clear the reason they had left her with objects of sentimental value was that they had every faith in her that she could support herself well.  And they had never planned on dying so young…

            Edouard saw Hermione thoughts drift and a sad look cloud her eyes, but it was quickly gone and she smiled brightly at him.

            "So, tell me more about what you do at the Ministère de Magique.  I learned only that you have to keep up with a lot of world events and news."  Edouard began to talk about a job that he so obviously loved, and Hermione loved to listen to him talk, although he certainly was not the only one speaking during the rest of the evening.  

            Two hours later, and several alcoholic beverages as well, both the wizard and the witch were still talking animatedly, when Hermione happened to glance at her watch.  Her eyes widened in surprise at how quickly the time had passed.  She did not want to leave, but she had to be up early in the morning; and her body knew it, for she was yawning an absurd amount of times.  Edouard, who paid close attention to details, caught both the yawns and the discreet glance at her watch, and he skillfully brought their current conversation to a close, and, before they could get sidetracked onto another brilliant and fascinating topic, suggested that he see her home.  At first, Hermione was ready to agree with him, but then she pictured her tiny, ugly apartment- and the signs of the life that she lived that were strewn plainly about.  She smiled and declined his polite offer, and he walked with her out to the front of the building.  It was getting dark, and that meant it was rather late, since the sun set so late in the summer, and Hermione knew that she had made the right decision in deciding to go home now…but she didn't want to in the least.  She flashed Edouard a regretful smile as she told him that she had to work early tomorrow.  He returned her look with one of his own and gently picked up her hand and kissed it before she Apparated back to her real life.  

            As soon as Hermione got back to apartment, she began to reform the multitude of charms and incantations that held the persona that was practically hers now.  Soon, she would have to begin practicing to create an entirely new person.  Along with her studying for the exams that would hopefully grant her entrance to a new life and the world that had shut her out, she had been devouring books on disguises, both muggle and magickal.  She was fairly certain that she would be able to change not just her physical characteristics, but her walk and even her voice.  By the time she was ready to become Calypso Anastasia, she would be able to walk right into Harry or Ron without them even knowing it was her.  Hell, she bet she could even fool Snape.  Now that presented an interesting situation.  Walking up to Snape and testing those much vaunted spy sense of his.  Ha!  Hermione finished the last charm that bound the spells to her face and body and sat down at her small kitchen table with a glass of water.  She certainly didn't need any more alcohol, for although she was nowhere drunk, she was buzzed enough to not want any thing else to drink.  

***

            Severus looked down at his glass, then sighed and put it away.  He didn't really feel like getting piss drunk tonight.  Even pleasant inebriation seemed a bit too self-indulgent at the moment.  After all, even when Dumbledore *had* imbibed in the occasional drink on holidays, he had never gotten drunk when there was the possibility of someone needing him for something.  Now sugar high on those disgusting teeth rotting candies he always had, that was another matter altogether.  Snape could hear the man's voice as though it was in his ear: 'you can never have too much energy!'  He chuckled a little bit, but his humor was short lived.  It was late, and the rest of the castle, those teachers who had stayed over the summer break, were all asleep; but he was having difficulty in finding his way to Morpheus's arms.  In fact, he had been having trouble sleeping ever since the wedding, ever since he had gotten a glimpse of a too thin girl with dark circles under her eyes.  A girl who looked like she needed someone to care for her.  

            He snorted in self-derision.  Right, and you think that person could be you? He sneered at his stupidity as he recalled another sight, later at the wedding reception.  That same girl with a little bit of color in her cheeks, laughing at something her dinner companion had said.  Her _male dinner companion.  He had glanced away as quickly as he was able- just in time to catch Harry Potter's level, compassionate gaze on him.  He had thought about nodding and acknowledging the man, for after all, it _was_ his wedding day, but he couldn't quite bring himself to.  It would also mean something of an acknowledgement that he had been staring at Hermione.  And since he had no idea why his gaze was drawn to her, he refused to admit to it.  _

            But that didn't make it any less true and he still thought about her at odd moments of the day; a pause in the conversation at lunch, the seconds before he stepped out of his chambers in the morning.  Snape sighed yet again, and then walked into his dark bedroom without turning on a light, stripped to his boxers and fell onto his bed.  He might as well try to get some sleep, no matter how futile it seemed- if there was one thing he had learned in the two years that he had been Headmaster of Hogwarts, it was that the administrative duties for this place never ended.

***

            Sunlight didn't hit the windows of either of them, though, before they awoke.  Snape heard birds chirping loudly, in the dark.  He sighed, knowing that his day would be as full as ever, despite the fact that school wasn't in session.  In fact, sometimes things were slightly more peaceful when the students were in the building.  No, who was he trying to fool?  The work never ended, but he had come to realize that there was nothing he liked doing more.  Although the thought occurred-just what did that say about him?

            Hermione woke up to the sounds of a domestic fight somewhere in her building.  Because she cared _just that much that the 'fucking __bastard' had stumbled in drunk with lipstick stains from some 'low down cheap whore hussy, no doubt'.  Attempts to pull her pillow over her head were extremely unsuccessful, and by the time she mustered the energy to reach for her wand next to her bed, she realized that it was time for her to get up anyways.  She winced, knowing that her day rarely held anything positive, or even unusual, and dragged herself out of the mess of sheets and blankets.  She was a light sleeper, but tended to move a lot; she found making her bed to be a simple pleasure every morning courtesy of her magickal ability- a wave of her wand and 'poof'. _

            She did some stretches to stay limber, got herself some breakfast, and then a quick glance at her watch informed her that it was time to Apparate to her first job of the day.  Her days had fallen into a routine that had been happily broken by last night's little adventure.  Frankly, Hermione, who had thrived on change and excitement, had grown up overturning plots by evil overlords, was bored.  Oh, she hardly wanted to run out and get herself killed, but there was definitely something missing.  She had never been particularly fond of routine; methodology, yes, but secretly, she had craved the excitement that her forays with Ron and Harry had provided.  The boring routine of her very first job had been her initial indication that it might not have been the best pathway to choose.  And now, even though she had made an enormous change, she was right back to that same never-differing schedule that had begun her years of drudgery.  The only hope she had was that it was only a few more weeks until she was away from this place, away from this life…

            Throughout the next few days, whenever she had a free moment- and sometimes when she didn't, as a few bruises could attest to- Hermione's thoughts were occupied with change.  She knew that she wanted more of it in her life, but now she was starting to have second feelings about whether she was really prepared to deal with the true enormity of the situation she was about to embark on.  She should have been ready, fresh and flowering, to take this chance at eighteen, but at eighteen she had been alone in the world and too shaken by her encounter with the Dark to consider it.  And now, here she was, a jaded twenty year old, trying to compete with kids just out of school with brand new outlooks on life and the latest knowledge stuffed into their heads by their professors.  She just wasn't certain…oh, sure, all the colleges had liked her essay, but…  The same self defeating arguments that had been playing through her mind for over two years resounded in an orchestral clash that made her want to sit down and give up.  The climax came, as always, in the worst possible moment.

            The spotlight was on her, the music was heavy with innuendoes, and Hermione knew that tonight she would make a lot of money, because the crowd was drunk and eager to see the star of the night.  Every attempt to study today had been met with mental cries of how stupid she was to even attempt this, and she had been forced to give up.  She strode across the stage, oozing sex appeal and confidence as though this was, indeed the career that she was made for.  And, somewhere in the middle of her routine, she started to believe it.  She started to wonder what it was, really, that made her so unwilling to settle down in a life like this.  She began to ruthlessly quash the already faint voice that told her that there was something else out there for her, something better than what she was doing now- more suited to her talents.  And then, as she did a move she had been particularly reticent to perform- and was only doing so from dire threats from Eldrich- when her embarrassment was at its absolute peak, the entire drunken mass of men turned into a single face, multiplied a hundred or more times.  Severus Snape.  And she just stopped.  She just stopped and ran off the stage, ran out of the bar, and ran- forgetting entirely about Apparition- ran back to her apartment.  

            She didn't bother turning on the lights as she flung the door shut behind her- her eyes were too full of tears to be able to see.  She wasn't sure what she wanted to do, wasn't sure what she needed to do….hell, she wasn't sure about anything at the moment.  It had hit her, suddenly, that losing one's identity wasn't the sort of lark that she and Ron and Harry had gotten up to in school.  Yes, an adventure it could be called, but this was her _life_, and there was no evil madman lurking around the corner to justify rash decisions.  It was all her.  If she fucked up her life for the third time, she would have no one to blame but herself.  And she knew that there were no fourth chances.  Last try.  Final round.   

            Hermione looked around at what vague shapes she could see through the gloomy dark that encased the room as though beseeching them for advice- but being emre inanimate objects, they gave her no solace.  Hermione ran through a short- a very painfully short- list of people she could go to and settled, at last, on help.  She took a deep breath, and Apparated before she could talk herself out of it.

            He was awakened by a thump against something in his living room, and then a lighter thump, as though someone had knocked against the table therein, upon which lay towering stacks of research and other work-related material that he had always promised to get around to sorting through…eventually.  Now, however, he was amused to find that they were serving a sort of burglar alarm function.  Although it did occur on occasion, burglary of magickal homes was quite rare, and he was intrigued that a muggle was able to get past some of the charms he had up.  Pulling his dressing gown a bit tighter, for he always forgot to turn off his Cooling Charm before he retired for the night and so was doomed to wake up frozen in the middle of the summer, and clutching his wand in a  defensive grip, he crept out his door and peered around the corner to see who was in his flat.  And, if Edouard De Criste was not the excellently trained Wizard that he was, he might have dropped his wand in shock when the figure, facing where he was standing, was revealed to him in a pale slash of moonlight.

***

            Hermione froze, staring into the shocked eyes of her chosen confidant.  And immediately gained resolve to see this through.  Hermione Granger was who she was, even when she wasn't sure who precisely that was.  Good lord, her mind was muddled!  So muddled, in fact, that she was quite surprised that she had  managed to Apparate to this place, having been there only once and only for a moment; to pick up a magazine that Edouard thought she would enjoy but had forgotten to bring to their lunch meeting two days ago.  She broke the tableau, and sat weakly on the sofa beside her, cast with the sinister shadows of moonlight.  And as though that was his cue, Edouard moved forward as well, using his wand to emit a soft, but still bright enough light for them to hold whatever strange discussion this would surely prove to be.  He was observant enough to take in her swollen eyes and the cloak flunk haphazardly about her body as though to conceal what she wore- or from what he could see with a quick sweeping glance- what she _wasn't_ wearing.  He took a deep breath, sat on the other side of the couch, and waited for her to begin.  If there was one thing he had learned about Hermione Granger since she had come into his life, it was that nothing was ever simple.  

            Hours later, Hermione had a far clearer idea of what she wanted from life…and it wasn't as though Edouard had given the answers, because he couldn't.  He had just been there for her, listening, only making suggestions when she had run out of steam and hit the same brick wall that she had been hitting all day.  That she had been hitting for the latest part of her life, in truth.  It was nice.  It was like she and Harry and Ron, sitting in the semi-darkness of the Gryffindor Common Room, a curious intimacy born of shared adventures and common goal that lasted for years…but that had, by now, faded with distance.  So here she was, all talked out, an oddly comfortable silence aided by the murky light that their wands emitted and the stillness of the rest of the world, just before dawn.  

            It had been a long time since Hermione had felt this way around any one.  She looked over at the handsome man- she didn't have very far to look, because he was sitting thigh to thigh with her, peering into her eyes with his own light brown ones, which seemed to darken with emotion the longer she stared into them.  Suddenly, but deliberately, Hermione and Edouard leaned towards the other.  Their heads tilted in opposite direction, their breathing came just a little bit faster, and the hands which had been clutched together for support broke apart and reached to tangle in the other's hair as their lips met.                      

**FRENCH TRANSLATION (Pineapple and Madeline Jete, thank you both for your help with the French/translations; I am indebted (and feel monumentally stupid!): **

**-Mr. DeCriste, how are you?  Would you like a table for two near your usual place?  **

**-No, not today, I regret.  We want only drinks.  I am happy, and you?**

**-Yes, very.  Ah, here are your places. Have a good night.  **

**As always, my incredible thanks; if it weren't for the people that have continued to review, and those that reviewed for the first time on the past chapter, it would certainly have taken me a lot longer to get this chapter out.  To show you how devoted an author I am, and explain all incoherencies sure to come, I am doing this at ****midnight**** and thirty…and I have to get up at **seven forty five****** tomorrow, too.  We'll ignore the fact that I sort of procrastinated all the rest of the evening….and just get on with the replies and thank-you's, shan't we?**

**Bluestarfish****: Ah, my thoughts precisely, and I am glad that you like and appreciate him for what he is; although he is a character in his own right, not merely a set-up for Snape…I hope that you find this update, too, and remember that you enjoyed it (k, so If you didn't you wont be reading this…erm…). Thanks for the comment; your thought mirror my own, but then, I don't really control the story, as numerous and disturbing turns have proven to me!**

**troesnaja**** : Well, I'm glad you like her; I think that one of the points that I am trying to get across is that Hermione needs to dig herself out of this hole herself, and her friend's, well-intentioned that they are, might hinder her actual progress mentally, if not, perhaps, physically or financially.  **

**Helena: ****J  Another person after my own heart, though I must remind you that I have very little control over the actual happenings in the story; the muses only give me the (generally, and without sarcasm) glorious job of transcribing events- the actual wording.  And thank you for you praise.**

**Ozratbag2: Before I re-read your review and reply I must begin with praises of your own very intriguing work; although I am a lazy bum and have yet to review it, I am certainly following your latest story (the title escapes me- its summer and I spend most of my sad life reading SS/HG fics, what do you expect?).  I think the concept is quite novel, and I can't wait to see where it all ends up- I also like the fresh format (the short journal entries).  Ok, now, to the review: Oh, goodness, you left me one of my absolute favorite type of review; one that tells me what you like and what issues you want to see focused on in the story.  Thanks muchly.  I'm glad you like my portrayals and hope that you read on and see if your predictions are right, I'm trying hard not to give my plot (what little of it the muses let me see) away.  And about the boss- well, several people have expressed a wish to see him (both of them, I suppose) subjected to various cruel tortures; I have very inventive (read: slightly disturbing!) readers.  I really think I may have to write an alternative scene, where Hermione goes psycho on them…mmm…**

**Jana B: well, one of the few things that I can promise is that she will *eventually* end up with Snape, I just can't tell you when.  I hope you like the update.**

**Alexial****: Wow, very nice review in that you quite succinctly pointed out the things you liked- such detail always makes me happy and I thank you for that..I tend to ramble…And, well, although Hermione will eventually end up with Severus, I can't tell you when.  **

**MadAboutHarry****: I always look forward to your reviews; thank you very much for the feedback. Glad you like Edouard; I (and Hermione) do as well.  Um, Ron.  Hmm.  I can't recall that part, let me re-read the chapter…Oh.  Its actually just what it says, nothing more and nothing less.  I sort of see Ron as a bit more analytical than Harry; someone who sees when there is a puzzle and tries to figure it out, as opposed to his more emotionally driven best friend, and Ron sees that she is trying to cover something up and wondering about what it is, and whether it is something that would make him not want to be friends with her or something.  Hope that helps; Ron wont figure very much in this story, but your bringing it up refreshes my memory of the points..which may be important for a scene I am thinking about in the future, thanks…  Ah, well, you see in this chapter why there was not much Snape/Hermione interaction; as far as I can tell, it may still be a little bit before there is any of a major amount. About the University…yeah, me too.  Damn muses with their complex schemes! Thanks for the comments!  **

**Eirete****: Thanks for reviewing again; I guess we'll just have to see about your prediction.  And yes, goodness will her hair be fried; and as you see, I did recall that she will have to have a whole new look.  Thanks for your encouragement and..gosh, am I sorry about how long this took!**

**Ress****: Thanks, hehe.**

**Madeleine Jete: Teehee, holidays always a good thingl I love summer break, although I have been disgustingly busy so far; have yet to spend a full seven days at home.  And I am going to be so trashed tomorrow morning. *sighs, then continues answering nice person's review*.  True, I am an ardent follower of many popular 'fanon' ideas, be that good or bad.  I hope you didn't have *too* much snow; well, seeing as it is summer, I rather just hope that you have more sun and less rain than we've had over here…I do believe you live quite a bit a ways from me (no, not a stalker, don't worry!).  Thanks for the response on the weather; the justification for its being blistering hot in ****Scotland**** was nice (hehe).  Also, good luck in figuring out classes for next term; math went pretty well for the year, so thank you for the good luck. **

**JediHermione****: Thanks****J**

**Deritine****: Yes, well; we all get a bit behind (three  months…*wince*)…although since you are under no obligation to read, whereas I have promised to write, you are fine; and as always, I love to read your reviews.  Yes, I had to set my Word spellcheck to make it so that even if I spelled his name wrong, it would automatically correct it for me; a bit of a pain, but he *would* have that name, with that spelling.  Er, what is a swat?  A boyfriend? *author ponders, but its one in the morning and her poor little brain almost explodes…*  Yeah, I would venture to say that a few things got broken with 'the Deatheater stuff' as well; her self-confidence and courage being a few of the things; but she is working on it.  Thanks a lot for your comments and praise; they are truly appreciated and poured over**

**Janet: Dahling, we really need to meet again this week, for my sanity, if not the sake of the book.  And yes, eventually/soon I will complete my corrections and go over the newet version of the road trip bit.  Yes, we do need more chivalrous guys...lets hit ****Coventry**** and find some!!  Yeah, I know, I'm bad at the dialogue layering, and was trying to be less complex; thanks a lot, you know I don't mind people picking over my stuff, god knows that I do it enough to yours.  I will add that right now to the authors note.  **

**Casual_Bubbles****: Ok, the 'spelling mistake' that you mentioned happens, actually, not to be one; although had there been a valid one I would certainly have taken it to heart. I simply prefer the Old English spelling 'magick' as opposed to the rather more flat one, 'magic'.  It's like how I spell grey, rather than gray.  I will try hard to make sure that I write anyways only when it ought to be there, thank you.  It does take rather a lot of time to write the chapters**J; and, well, Hermione needs to get some 'edickation', I think, before she can do much else; I have twisted JKR's world to model it more closely on the ******US****, where I have been taught that education is the key to everything and anything.  **

**CatEyes****: Thanks, glad you are following, and goodness knows I detest those awful 'site experiencing overload' messages that means I have to wait at least a day!**

**Ailene****: Er..it took me a while, but I finally did it?  Thanks for the encouragement, if it helps, I recall writing a bit more after I got your review, I just got…sort of…sidetracked… And, um, the cherry was quite yummy (heeheee…gee, I think I am tired…)**

**Tracey Claybon: Well, as promised, can't get rid of me yet!  And thanks for the compliments as well****J**

**Phedre no Delaunay: I can hardly chastise you for doing what I often do; rather, I am merely grateful that you have decided to review; I know it takes time, so thanks.  Oh, you seem a person after my own heart; plot and correct grammar and spelling and I am probably hooked- so thank you a lot for telling me that my story is one of those; and gods above do I commiserate with you on many of the fanfiction writer's lamentable lack of skill.  Then again, ****one thirty**** in the morning and I suspect I rather suck as well. Thank goodness for word autocorrect…  Anyways, ooh, yes.  You are the person who also liked Anne Bishop, the goddess- who has a new book coming out in October, and has contracts for several more as well…if I wasn't so freaking tired I would be jumping for joy, and hopefully you would join me. So, your opinion *grin* seems quite valid, merci beaucoup!  K, that's *odd*.  The French came up as correct in the English spellchecker in Word…*trails off…too tired…* **

**Anna P: Wow, that has to be one of the more…interesting reviews I have ever gotten.  I'm not quite sure what to say, although I do thank you a lot for taking the time to write out a response to my story.  I suppose we will merely have to see, though, whether any parts of your predictions come true****J  Oh, um.  Ok, Edouard doesn't actually think he can sweep her off her feet; he just wants to be there in case she falls, if that makes any sense. I'm sorry you think he's dreadful, I hope I can change your mind at some point in the story.  Oh, yes, the story does get rather melodramatic…although it should be going back up, starting with her decision, and continuing till the end, I hope; I think my point is that getting out of depression and difficult situations is not an easy slope; there are a lot of twists and turns in the path that cause her to stumble and fall and sometimes stop, and the story explores what makes her continue and keeps her up.  And oh, yes, we all find that our lives get depressing, I hope you find more joy in your own, sometimes; there is always someone more pathetic than ourselves****J  Eh, I don't know; I rather think that Hermione can help *herself* out of this mess; after all, Severus would be just like you believe Edouard to be if he thought he could sweep in and make everything better.  Its just going to take her a little bit.  As stated in my AN, I simply prefer the old English spelling; magick, and hope this doesn't bother you *too* much; it ought to sooth your feelings to know that it is, in fact, grammatically correct.  And remember, you can re-read reviews, where a few people have mentioned this; my response is always the same:).  My muses don't mess up, they just irritate me; I am the one who words the story…um, yes, they hope for a review, indeed, thanks very much for the detailed email****J**


	10. A Little Help From My Friend s

**_Disclaimer: If Harry Potter were mine, than I would probably have nice awards shows to go to instead of sitting here writing this trash.  _**

**Umm.****  Radiohead kicks ass.  Go find a concert and see them live; spastic dancing and swooshy hair and all.  Anyways, I got betas and they are incredible; most improvements belong to their sharp and very smart eyes!  Dame Niamh, Miss Phantasm, and Katharina- I owe you a mountain load of gratitude!!  As always, reviews are much appreciated, and my replies are at the bottom.  If you want on my mailing list for updates, email me at amariran@yahoo.com, or tell me in your review(!!).  And if anyone here followed the WIKTT discussion about feedback and reviews, I am of the opinion that anything, no matter how harsh, is good.  French translations are down at the bottom.  Thanks, and I hope y'all enjoy this chapter.              **

**A Little Help From My Friends**

            Severus was NOT amused.  Well, all right, perhaps he was, but he was damned if he would show that he, in any way, shape, or form, found Harry Potter's puppy dog eyes humorous.  And no, that was most certainly not a smile tugging at his lips.  A smirk, perhaps, at the ridiculousness of the situation. 

            "Oh, give me a _break_, Potter.  You don't truly expect me to believe that you, having just gotten back from your honeymoon, actually **want me to…how is it that you put it…'go out, loosen up, have some fun?'  With _you?  On a Saturday night?"_**

            "Oh, quit trying to give me the old, 'I have a bloody huge stick up my arse' routine, Snape," Harry chided affectionately, dropping the innocent pleading act the second he sensed it wasn't going to get him the result he wanted.  Harry, after all, was practicing to be a politician.  And he really did want the man to come with him tonight.  

            O, what a manipulator of Fate was Albus Dumbledore, with his decision to leave Snape as Headmaster, and to entrust Harry to stay involved in the politics of the British magickal world!  Having somehow become friends with one of the men he had most hated during his childhood, the Boy Who Had Continually Kicked Voldemort's Sorry Arse found himself drawn to check in on the man's welfare- and current information proved it not well.  Although Snape was performing his duties with his accustomed perfection, Harry had it on good faith from Lupin that the man was neither sleeping nor eating properly.   There was something eating at the Slytherin, and Harry was hell-bent on finding it out.  And if it took a night away from his darling Mireille (Harry had to fight hard to keep a fatuous grin off of his face at the thought of his brand new bride), a night where he would get Snape to relax, even if he had to get him drunk to do it, then by the gods he _would_ do it!  

            Half the evening later, when Severus was on his third Dirkley's Drink for the Discriminating, (a rather disturbing looking beverage that Harry had never seen anyone else drink) he finally began to loosen up a bit, especially his tongue.  The drink fascinated Harry almost as much as the words tumbling with unaccustomed ease from the man's lips.  The bottle was made of a scary, shiny black glass and contained a clear liquid with occasional sporadic flashes of light darting around in it.  Harry, at first believing the man to be a 'chick drink' man (honestly, what type of a man's drink was _clear_?), had asked for a sip, but that single taste infused him with nothing but awe for a man able to suck down even as much as a single bottle. He was discovering, in fact, that he liked this sarcastic git more and more as he got to know him.  But that didn't stop him from wishing that his friends weren't quite so damned stubborn.

            Once he got buzzed enough ("I do not _get _drunk in public, Potter, and you would do well to keep that in mind before you even attempt to ply me with drinks in a pathetic attempt to get me to talk about 'my feelings'"),Snape told Harry some very _interesting_ things.  Things he wished a certain brown-haired former Gryffindor Head Girl could hear…but he had no idea where she was, and she would never believe it unless she heard it from Snape, who would probably rather be seen wearing a shiny tiara in a pink bubble bath with a yellow rubber ducky than tell her.  (It might be noted here that Mr. Potter himself had no such qualms as Snape did about getting drunk in public). 

            Hmm.  Well, it presented a pretty problem, Potter thought as he swung by Hogwarts, seeing his friend to the door, then continuing on to his waiting wife.  He picked up the pace to get outside the Anti-Apparation wards with pretty thoughts of his own in his head, which was now cleared up, before he tried to Apparate.  His immense gratitude went to a well-prepared Sober-Up thrown at him by a glaring Snape before they had left this evening with the evil assurance that it was just nasty-tasting enough to work properly.

***

            Hermione felt her chapped lips make contact with Edouard's soft mouth and she sighed in contentment, closing her eyes and toying with a silky strand of his hair as the kiss became heavier.  Hermione, however, having not done very much kissing in her life, was rather surprised when the kiss became sloppy, and then a probing tongue sought entrance to her mouth.  Still, she surrendered, and they sat there on the sofa and snogged for a bit longer.  Then they broke apart, releasing all contact from each other, and stared with wide eyes.

            "Wow," Edouard said softly.

            "Yeah…wow…" Hermione echoed in the same tone.

            A silence fell over the room, awkward this time, a bulky pregnancy from all the things that neither was able to articulate.  Finally, Edouard scraped up the courage to continue.  He stroked her hair gently and turned her face so that her eyes had nowhere to go but his, and he smiled at her reassuringly.

            "So…friends, then?"

            "I think that being just friends sounds really nice."  Hermione smiled back at him, and his own expression was washed with relief.  

            "Good, as I rather think that neither of us wants to subject ourselves to that experience again."  His casual, friendly words and accompanying lighthearted air chased away the sadness that had been all too ready to settle down on Hermione, and she gave a giggle, snuggling closer to him.  He let his arm drift around her in a cuddle…a very, very brotherly cuddle.

***

            True, Hermione had a lot of explaining to do when she got back to her flat, where a furious employer lay in wait for her.  Eldrich was less than pleased to have just missed out on a night's worth of the profits that her dancing always brought him.  But Hermione wasn't the brilliant witch her schoolteachers had proclaimed her to be without there being a kernel of truth to it, and she wove a story around him so skillfully that he didn't question her actions again.  If there had been a little bit of magick in that story that had urged him into believing it, well, the Ministry didn't have any rules against it, did they?  

            Having averted the crisis and finally gotten rid of her provoked boss, Hermione gazed around her small, ugly apartment, wishing nothing more than to send it up in flames.  But in lieu of that, she supposed she would have to settle with getting as much sleep as she could.  After all, she had big entrance tests in just four days.  She drifted off to as peaceful a sleep as she ever got in the place.

            The rest of the days until one of the biggest and most exhausting proceedings of Hermione's life passed in such a blur that she could hardly have said what she did or who she talked to.  She knew that she did her jobs and got her money and met Edouard for dinner every night.  Frankly, they were both sick of empty apartments, and he had discovered her shameful lack of cooking ability.  As a result, he was forcing her to learn in the small, friendly kitchen of his apartment, but other than a few cooking lessons which stuck in her mind, everything was a blurred mess of images and words and sounds that culminated in a disturbingly sudden clear-headedness upon opening the door of the examinations room…

***

            "It's called a colander, Hermione, a colander.  _Mon Dieu_… Are you telling me you never even watched _ta__ mère cook pasta?"_

            "Well…I was busy with the chemistry set my father bought me, or reading a book, or…"

            "I see.  Well, you will never be able to survive at college unless you know how to make something other than sandwiches, because you will be far too busy…far too busy to stop over here for dinner every night…"  They had ended the conversation soon after that, both occupied by trying to salvage the nearly ruined spaghetti and unwilling to discuss their imminent separation when she had a busier schedule that she actually cared about.  

            They had grown incredibly close in the past few days, both realizing that they had needed a friend more than anything.  Well, she wouldn't start college until the middle of September, even if she did get in, and so there was no real use in worrying about it now.  All they could do was throw themselves into the time that they had, and become as close as possible.  

***

            So here she was, sitting at an old wooden table, in the midst of a cavernous room, working on the written part of her examination for Salem.  She had Madrid later in the day, then Beijing and Alexandria, and then on Friday, the most exclusive and difficult exams of all- Stonehenge and Oxford.  She couldn't afford to worry about future tests now or else she wouldn't make it into any University at all.  Hermione attacked this test with the same tenacity with which she performed all of her other tasks, and was the first one finished with it- though only by around two minutes.  She was smart, yes, but there were others who were just about as smart who were competing with her for the selective openings.  In truth, the Salem written exams were considered something of a joke in the University circles; the college placed rather a low value on how well their theoretical students could do on theoretical problems, one of the reasons the school was last on Hermione's rated list. 

            As she waited for her practical examiner to enter the room, she caught sight of her own set face in the mirror on the opposite side of the room.  Luckily, the mirror was not inclined to speak, aside from the perfunctory greeting she had received upon entering the room.  She supposed that the only reason it _was_ enchanted was to prevent cheating of any sort before the exam could begin; magickal mirrors were wonderful tools in more than just the obvious ways.  

            Her reflection, with its deep blue eyes and coffee-colored, slightly wavy hair, stared back at her.  The girl not only looked different from Hermione Granger- both forms of her, that was- but spoke in a far more calculated, even drawling manner, as though she weighed each word carefully before she spoke.  It was as far from Hermione's usual hurried and almost brassy tone as she could get without seeming too obvious.  

            Calypso walked differently too; she swayed on her high heels as though the world had nothing better to do than sit up and take notice, but it was more self-assured than slutty.  She'd had enough of that, she rather thought.  It was time for a change, although she had been careful not to make her alter ego too different from herself, deciding to keep most of her physical characteristics and mannerisms the same.  She was smart enough to realize that it was going to be damned hard to live such a lie even _without adding to the burden.  But this was a necessary action; she had thought it out very clearly and carefully that night on Edouard's couch.  Speaking of Edouard, she failed to suppress a little giggle as thoughts of last night passed through her mind…_

***

            A firm tapping at his door informed him of a visitor, and a quick glance at the clock on his wall informed him that Hermione was late.  There was not enough magick used in the flat to prevent Muggle devices from working and he took full advantage of that fact, indulging in some of the more useful pieces of nonmagickal technology.  He peered through the eyehole to see who was calling at dinnertime.    

              A short brunette stood there, looking up at the small hole in the door with an amused expression on her face.  Heavy evening makeup adorned her clear blue eyes.  He had never seen the woman in his life.  He put the wizard's lock on his door before opening it; the Muggle chain would do absolutely nothing to block a curse or hex sent with a slim wand, but the form of protection he had bought at Le Champs-Elysees Magique was invisible to the eyes and reflected most magick directed at it.  It was good only for a few curses, with the understanding that in that time the person could at least close the door.

            "_Bonjour, est-ce que je peux vous aider? » he asked kindly, but allowing his confusion to show clearly._

            "_Ah, peut-être.  Vous étés Edouard De Criste, n'est-ce pas _? »

            « _Ah, oui, c'est ma nom, mais qui étés vous, mademoiselle ? »_

            « _Hermione Granger m'envoi faire vous une commission,__ » she responded in a careful, measured way.  Although still quite puzzled, Edouard nodded and took down both barriers, allowing her entrance to his rooms.  He watched her speculatively as she walked in with confidence, a slight swagger to her walk, drawing attention, tastefully, to her pretty high heels.  Hmm, she was even shorter than she looked, then.  He was even more bemused when she appeared to know her way around his living room, not stopping to take it in the way most people do in an unfamiliar area.  He started to form an idea when the woman stopped a couple of feet from him and turned around so that she was directly facing him.  He found it a bit strange that he was not put off by this alarming proximity with a stranger, and his far-fetched thought began to seem a little more realistic, but she spoke, interrupting and confusing his train of thought._

            "_Voulez-vous entendre la commission, maintenant? _» she asked.

            « _Bien sur, » he replied.  _

            « _Elle m'ordonne dire qu'elle aime vous duper ! » And with that, Hermione gave a shrieking giggle and launched herself at the wide-eyed man in front of her, knocking him flat, and proceeding to tickle him into a mindless state of gasps and semi-coherent pleadings for her to '_arête, arête_!' which she, naturally, did not heed until she herself was too out of breath to continue.  As Edouard struggled to get his breath back, Hermione, or more accurately, Calypso, set her own self in order.  _

            Eventually Edouard slid out from beneath his friend and sat back on his heels to fully observe the transformation.  Slowly, she stood up, self-conscious in spite of herself, because she really cared about his opinion.  At an imperious wave of his hand, she twirled around gracefully like a fashion model showing off the latest collection of the season and was surprised at how pleased she felt when he clapped and smiled in approbation.  He stood up and hugged her tightly.

            "It's wonderful, 'Mione, and it will work well for you."  Here he took a step back and looked her straight in the eyes.  "But it isn't you, and it never will be."  Then, since they were both feeling the pressure of dozens of other things that needed to be said but couldn't be, he turned the mood light again with some joke about her cooking that she couldn't even recall.  But she did remember, with perfect clarity, how his eyes looked into her own when he told her that Calypso Anastasia wasn't really her.

            She hadn't realized how absorbed she was in her thoughts until she was startled out of them by a firm closing of the door of the examination room.  Hermione immediately redirected her attention to her examiner, trying to read her as deeply as she could without being too obvious.  

            The woman was tall, with a beehive hairdo that was probably never in style in the Muggle world, even when it had been 'in style', but then, Hermione was hardly an expert on fashion for any time period or community.  However, Hermione felt she was justified in her revulsion for the examiner's robes.  They were very…wooshy, for lack of a better term in her moment of sudden nervousness, and a sparkly lime green that should be outlawed, especially since the woman had dyed her hair to match.  Black commando boots were probably not the wisest choice to finish the ensemble.  Hermione concluded her cursory inspection of the woman with a shrug, for what did it really matter that her assessor was fashion-challenged?  What mattered were the things in her eyes.  It was really too bad, though, that they were hardly any nicer that her outfit.  A sort of slithery look, much like the slippery looking material her robes were made of, lurked in her eyes, and a hard set to her mouth assured Hermione that this would be no easy exam.  A sugared venom voice inquired if Calypso was ready to begin yet, and with a deep breath and a glance in the mirror, she was able to say "Yes," with such cool assurance in her voice it made the woman sitting snootily opposite her to change her manner to be just a little more polite.  Thus her rounds of exams truly began.   

***

            "_Non__, non, mademoiselle, j'insiste."_

            "Come on, Edouard, not only is it completely unnecessary, but any place that requires you to transfigure me into an outfit like this has got to be far more expensive than I'm willing to let you spend.  Besides, what the hell is open this late?  Why don't we just have a nice dinner at your apartment, if you absolutely **must** celebrate my finishing these exams?"   

            "_Parce__ que, ma chérie, you _will_ insist on helping somehow, and I wish to be eating something edible tonight," was his dry reply as he stood patiently, still offering his arm as he had been since he had greeted her outside of the bar after her act was finished.  He had respected her request that he never set foot inside when she was working.  She had been tired and wearing her old sweats, and had almost forgotten that today had been the last of her exams.  As she was about to wearily Apparate to his house, on his standing invitation for company, even with the strange hours that she kept, she had been ambushed with numerous transfigurations.  She now stood teetering on high heels, wearing a pretty blue summery dress, and adorned with jewelry and a handbag to match.  She had to admit, with an amused glance down at her outfit, that the man had good taste.  Still, she couldn't let him do this, he had already done so much for her.  "Secondly, I can well afford a single dinner out even if it is a bit pricey, and thirdly, we are going into wizarding Paris, the restaurants of which are open even later than those in its Muggle counterpart.  Timing is not a problem, unless you make us miss our reservations, **_allez_."  He finally gave up on his gentlemanly gesture and just tugged on her arm, finally succeeding in wearing her down enough so that she relaxed and he could Apparate them both to the restaurant.       **_

***

            Soft lighting, quiet music, and the fresh flowers in crystal vases that stood on pristine starched tablecloths confirmed the type of place this was, just as much as the snooty maître d' and menus that didn't reveal the prices.  Hermione tried to glare at the handsome man across the table, but his cheeky grin and adorably perfect fitting black suit were too much for her feeble resistance- to this man, anyways.  She grinned and reached across the fine linen to squeeze his hand in gratitude for this time out.  He well knew how much she needed it.  It amused her to think that anyone observing them would probably assume that they were a loving couple, out for an anniversary dinner, perhaps.  Her mind created a stupid, fanciful image that she knew would never come to pass.  Severus Snape, of all people, sitting across from her just as Edouard was, in just this position, except that there was far more than friendship in their gazes.  She was unaware that she uttered a little wistful sigh, but Edouard was not in an observant mood.

            "So, who is he?"

            "Hmm?"  Caught unawares and embarrassed, Hermione tried to be nonchalant.

            "Oh, don't try to put me off.  I can tell that you were thinking of a man, and I want to know who it was!" He ended his sentence in a whiny, I-Want-The-Toy-Mommy way, his face screwed up to mimic a little boy in the midst of a tantrum.  Laughing at his silliness, Hermione pulled her hand from his and gave him a female version of his own mockery.

            "Only if you tell **me** who **you were thinking about last night."  Edouard dropped his face into its normal set at these words, despite their playful tone.**

            "I told you, I was just tired.  It was after one in the morning, after all."

            "Um-hmm," Hermione agreed skeptically, but she wouldn't press her point if he didn't press his, and the conversation ended with a stalemate and soon turned to other topics.  

            Later that night, (early Saturday morning)eHermHerm Hermione and Edouard took a leisurely stroll in the balmy summer air of Paris.  Hermione wanted to see more of the magickal part of the city, for she had only visited the muggle parts of the country when on vacation with her parents, entire summers for a few years, which is where she had learned the language so well.  She found it exhilarating and wonderful to walk along without fearing that anyone would recognize her from the papers, or from a smoky stage.  She was Calypso Anastasia, a soon-to-be college student, on the brink of an exciting new life, strolling along with one of her best friends.  

              "Her name is Amandine.   I never thought that I had a type, but if I did, then I know for certain that she would be the antithesis of it.  True, she is razor sharp smart, but she never speaks at our office meetings, and I only know how intelligent she is by her reports.  She wears sweater sets- of all things- even in this heat.  They're light things, now, in pretty, soft, pastel colours that match her pretty, soft eyes…"  Edouard trailed off in thought for a moment, and a none too gentle nudge in the ribs thanks to Hermione soon had him speaking again.  "And she has blond hair, only you can tell that it really is brown, mouse brown, and it's a  little strange because she isn't the sort of person that one would think would dye it and…in short, if you hadn't guessed already…I think I'm smitten."  He smiled tentatively and turned to his best friend, who was leaning on a lamppost beside him, listening thoughtfully to all of his words.

            "What's her last name?"

            "Basquette."

            "Where does she eat at lunch?"

            "She always has a brown paper bag lunch that she probably packs at home, I've see her carrying it into work alone with her briefcase.  She eats alone in her cubicle even though everyone else either eats in the staff room or goes out." Cubicles in the Ministère de Magique resembled the tents Hermione had seen during the World Quidditch Cup, although there were still limits and regulations. 

            "Who are her friends in the office?  She doesn't like that awful Margot, does she?"

            "No, she doesn't.  In fact, she doesn't have any real friends in the office, so far as I can tell.  Hermione, I love you dearly, but what the hell does this have to do with anything?"  The only response he received was a wave of her hand, a shake of her head, and another question.

            "What did she say, and most important, how did she _act, the last time you spoke to her?"_

            "I've never said more than "Hello" to her, and never gotten more than a hurried nod before she scurried off.  That's the whole problem, don't you see?  She's so painfully shy, it feels as though trying to start up a conversation with her would send her into a coma from fear.  I don't know how to deal with it."

            "Ahhh," Hermione replied to his dramatic ranting.

            "AHHHH?" he mocked her.  "Ahhh?  Is that all you can say?"

            "Mmmm."

            "Mmmm?  What do you mean by that?  It sounds as though you mean something by that."

            "Edouard's got it b-a-d, Edouard's got it b-a-d," Hermione chanted in a childish, sing-songy way.  She delighted in the way his cute little ears started to turn red, but was not so happy when he swung towards her, his heart in his eyes.  She sobered immediately.  Well, sort of.  She didn't have any potion on her, and they had imbibed rather too much wine over dinner, and then still more over the sumptuous desert they had indulged in.  But all of her faculties were in complete…_workingness?  _Working…**working order**_!  She was only a bit inebriated, but even so, she was not sure how to deal with the situation.  She put a calming hand on her friend's arm, and looked into his eyes to let him know that she was thinking about it._

            This was bad.  Her sociable, if occasionally over-dignified, friend was in love with a woman who, by his account, was fair afraid of her shadow.  "Mmmm," really was the best response.  Hermione used all of her feminine powers of Deduction and Sneaky Love Warfare Plotting to come up with a plan, but even then she didn't think much of it.  Still, it was better than nothing.

            "Okay.  Start slowly.  Make sure that you are there when she gets in to work every day, but do endeavor not to look like a stalker, dear.  Give her a friendly greeting, and position yourself in such a way that she has to give you some sort of verbal communication, but again, don't trap her.  Make sure you put yourself in her way whenever she ventures out of her office.  Just start getting her used to your presence.  How does it sound so far?"  Hermione looked up at her friend, a little anxious.  It wasn't often that she was asked for advice on love life, recently, at least.  She had been quite a busybody during parts of her seventh year with Harry and Ron.

            "It sounds like something that can be done.  I don't know why the baby steps approach never occurred to me.  I kept imagining walking up to her out of the blue one day and asking her for coffee and having her faint dead away or something from being spoken to so much.  I feel like an idiot."

            "Oh, it's fine to feel like what you are, sweetheart," Hermione said mockingly, and was immediately forced to duck away from the joking smack thrown her way by Edouard.  They walked back to an alley marked "For Apparation" in a fit of giggles and teasing punches fueled by alcohol, night air, and one of the headiest elements of all; friendship.        

FRENCH TRANSLATIONS:

_Mon Dieu: _My God_------------ _

_ta__ mere: your mother_--------------- __

_Bonjour, est-ce que je peux vous aider : _Hello, can I help you_ ?--------- _

_Ah, peut-être.  Vous étés Edouard De Criste, n'est-ce pas _? : Ah, perhaps.  You are Edouard De Criste, correct ? ------------------

_Ah, oui, c'est ma nom, mais qui étés vous, mademoiselle ?: _Ah, yes, that is my name, but who are you, miss ?_ --------- _

_Hermione Granger m'envoi faire vous une commission:_Hermione Granger sent me to give you a message_ ------------ _

_Voulez-vous_ entendre la commission, maintenant?__ :_ Would you like to hear it now__ ?_ ----------- __

_Bien sur : _Of course_--------- _

_Elle m'ordonne dire qu'elle aime vous duper ! _: She tole me to tell you that she likes to trick you ! -------

_arête__, arête : Stop, Stop_ !-------- __

_Non, non, mademoiselle, j'insiste : _No, no, miss, I insist_ -------------_

_Parce que, ma chérie: _Because, my dear

**_Allez_****_: _Let's go__**

**I really appreciate all those who take the time to review, whether it be just a couple of words telling me you read, or better yet, a list of improvements- and the muses enjoy all feedback as well.  Hope you liked this chapter, thanks for reading it.  To those who reviewed last chapter:**

**MadAboutHarry**** :** yeah, sorry about that, this one is at least a bit more timely.  That's my thinking, but as you can see, Edouard has a place in her life, but not Snape's.  Thank you; and yes, that is what I have decided to do about canon.  I love your feedback as always!****

**Pineapple: Thank you so incredibly much for your help in that correction; I feel really stupid, and changed it as soon as you told me about it!  As you can see, Hermione is not going to have sex with Edouard ;).  Much gratitude, again.**

**Blue Quartz: Cliffhanger?  Sorry, I didn't think it was too much of one!  Thanks for the encouragement.**

** Tesa1: Wow, what a reaction!  I hope that, eventually, I will answer all your questions.  Snape isn't helping her because at the moment, it really isn't his job, or even his business, for that matter.  She needs to get her own self out of this, its important to any future relationships she has.  And yes, I did promise it will be SS/HG and eventually, it will be.  I hope my notification got to you.  Thanks a ton, and I am very glad that you enjoyed it so much!!!**

**HunnySnowBunny****: Ah, as much as I love Snape, a big part of the story is his NOT helping her, because she needs to become an independent woman in her won right.  I hope I haven't lost you on that- he will be a part of her life, eventually though!  Thanks for the feedback.**

**Madeleine Jete: Yeah, I have an interesting thing to the identity thing, and I need to write it and see how it plays out.  Ah, thanks, I am going to, as another reader suggested, just make sure that it is in cannon from now on.  Oh, I know, things always come during the busiest times. For instance, instead of getting rest for tomorrow's tennis match, or doing my summer reading (school starts in three days) I am doing this.  I changed sodded, having realized it made little sense, so thank you.  Thank you- I really appreciate that you tell me specifically what you like, it makes me happy, and allows me to concentrate on things.  I also changed the translation, so thanks again:).  Oh, and I feel very lucky that you take the time out of your busy schedule to read and review- its so nice to hear from you!  Oh, gosh, that sounds like an awesome job!  I don't think I've ever been to ****Maine****, but coolness might be a blessing where I am; although we've had a lot of rain.  Middle of east Coast, eh?  Perhaps not to far from me then, hehe.  Oh, good luck with the upcoming year, and sympathies about the scheduling.  Hope you like this chapter; since its been beta'ed I hope that it's a bit better than usual.  **

**Leah: Interesting email address *grin*. Thanks for the praise, and hope you still enjoy this.**

**Mizuki**** Ashiya: I'm sorry, I should have emailed you after getting this message- I hope you read this- where did Severus appear?  Review or email me, and I will clear it up for you!   Yeah, I'm sorry about my propensity ofr long author's notes…I tried to make this one shorter, though!  **

**Orenda1: Ah, thanks!**

**Janet: You dweeb!  Yeah, my betas caught a couple of run-ons!  And sorry, but no, Edouard isn't your brother… Thanks for the compliment, hehe.  "They were seen hi-jacking someone's car…"  Radiohead, though, is prob. On your mind at the mo.  WOOHOO!  Their concert rocked.  **

**Tracey Claybon: well, there wasn't too much to regret, really, hehe.  MM, when do you mean, did Snape not recognize her?  At the wedding?  No, he did, and I thought I explained that; he was just too..him to get involved.  If it was something else, please contact me with a more specific question and I would love to answer it.  Glad you like it; thanks, and hope this one is interesting too.**


	11. Helter Skelter

Disclaimer: It's Christmas, but not by much, which means that I'm in America, not England, which means that I'm NOT JK Rowling, and thus would be foolish to claim this as my work, as it its British and I'm not and there we go…

****

I hate long waits, I know you do to…one of my reviewers informed, to the effect that, I had lost virtually all of my readers with my lengthy breaks between updates.  I'm sorry, but if it helps, as soon as I was done with my family Christmas eve activities, I began to slave over this chapter.  It will be re-posted, beta-ed (hopefully) and with review replies later- for now, please just understand that every time someone sends me a review, I pore over it and treasure it, good or bad, or critical.  But I really wanted to get this out as a Christmas present.  Merry Christmas, or simply Happy Holidays- and a very good New Year's to you all.  

            He was surprised.  He hadn't ever believed in the old saying about how 'getting things off your chest is good for the soul', but it was true.  Ever since he had confided in Harry, he had felt better.  He'd been sleeping more regularly, and eating more, and it seemed as though he was well on his way to recovering from his small bout of…infatuation.  Not that there had hardly been anything to recover from, he thought with a sneer.  He discounted the shots of pain in his chest whenever he thought of Hermione.  He probably just had heartburn.  And perhaps he did- just not the sort he thought.

            "Severus, have you thought about those honors classes we were thinking of adding on last year?  You know that there are several students well qualified for advancement, and the parents and even the Board is all for it.  There has never been a better time, and besides, it will be a great chance to- oh, _wow_."  Remus trailed off as he began to look through the thick sheaf of bound parchment his superior had roughly thrust into his hands, which had been waving in argument moments before.  

            He silently perused the compilation of plans and research.  By the time he looked up, Snape was staring out the window with that very odd expression on his face.  The one that had nearly gotten Lupin's head bitten off when he had inquired after his friend and employer's health…and happiness. 

            Lupin still had a rather tenuous relationship with his employer.  They existed peacefully with the other, respecting rights and abilities and jobs, but leaving all personal aspects rather alone.  Which was why he had resorted to informing Harry about the odd behaviour of Snape.  The problem with him now, though, hardly seemed noteworthy at first glance.  And yet the sharpness which had so categorized the man as he stepped into an unexpected role of leadership and threw his teaching persona seemed to have dulled.  His enthusiasm, if not his tenacity, in performing his duties had followed suit.  And although Remus knew that he was hardly eligible for the Know Snape Best Award, he knew a man who had got into a rut when he saw.

            It was true that the man had undergone enormous changes in the past two years, as he slowly relaxed from the crushing stress of a double agent into the almost equally crushing stress of Headmaster of one of the most prestigious magickal schools in the world.  The difference was that the stress was now that of a man involved in a difficult job, rather than a repentant wretch intent upon some hope of salvation.  And, Remus thought humorously, it had helped that Hooch and Pomfrey had refused to let him act as Headmaster until he did something about his appearance; something he had refused to lend time to for the majority of his life.  

            With a little dedication, and some very useful charms, Snape was a new man.  In fact, he caused not a few eyebrows to lift in lustful appreciation….generally up until the caustic bastard opened his mouth.  While the man had allowed his fastidiousness with potions to extend to his personal habits, and thus greatly improved his form, he bluntly refused to mitigate his harsh manner.  

            After years of the soft spoken, albeit powerful, Dumbledore, Snape was like a bitter winter wind.  You hated it while it was there, but it sure as hell got you moving.  Many changes that Dumbledore, with the threat of You-Know-Who hanging over his shoulder, had never been able to even think about had already been implemented.  Even the students, though they rather feared the new Headmaster, were forced to admit that he was a fair bastard, and did his job well.  

            Which, Lupin grinned, unwisely, wasn't to say that there weren't a hell of a lot of complaints from parents who felt their precious kiddies ought to be coddled.  Lupin managed to intercept most of the owls bearing messages of this sort, and had quickly realized that the complaints were very rarely legitimate, but rather from parent's of students who weren't truly fit for a prestigious magickal boarding school.  Though Snape had been rampantly unfair while a teacher, he no longer needed to worry about repercussions from his students' parents at the next Death Eater meeting, and he now forced himself to take a few steps away from issues or situations and make fair decisions.  He was a good man, and he clearly liked his job.

            "Lupin, you moron- get back to work and wipe that sorry ass grin off your pathetic lupine face!"  _Arrogant bastard…_     

            As Snape watched Lupin walk away, he realized that he had been, perhaps, a little unfair to the man.  He wasn't sure why, but it had been getting on his nerves, lately, that everyone was having more…fun in life than he was.  Well, no, fun wasn't the right word.  He had never truly aspired to 'fun' in his life, but was simple enjoyment too much to ask?  It had gotten to the point where even a quiet evening by the fire, with a book of whatever genre he was currently plowing through, was no longer enough to quiet his mind and content his soul, as it had been for the entirety of his adult life.  

            Ever since that…_girl _(what the sneer here denotes, perhaps not even Snape could say) had gone to lunch with him, he had been restless.  Although what he had told Potter was rather fuzzy in his mind, he was fearful that that was because his subconscious was trying to block from him just how much he had told of his pitiful, and bizarre, longings.  Why, he thought that he might be forced to avoid the man when he came in on Monday for what had become their habitual poring over the latest political news.  

            He had discovered a fascination for dabbling in the politics of the wizarding world, complicated and often entirely nonsensical as they sometimes were.  Harry shared his liking, he had found out, and although their conversations were fraught with insults ("You fool!  If that Law were passed, every pureblooded witch and wizard in Europe would rise up in anger.  Only a complete incompetent would support it, Potter.  Oh, right- that _is_ you."), and arguments ("If you weren't such a stupid bloody prick, Snape, then maybe you'd be able to comprehend that clause 56 specifically guards against that case, and reassures them all that their fucking precious properties are well protected."), they did, sometimes, come to a consensus on issues ("    ").

            Well, he had Sunday to worry about what would happen, but today he would enjoy the wrapping up of summer projects.  Maybe…maybe he'd give himself a break, just this once, and go somewhere other than Hogwarts or Hogsmeade for a change.  Maybe that would curb this feeling inside him.  Yes, that was it.  That was exactly what he needed to do.  Leave this dusty castle and all of its cares.  That would do the trick  Exactly…  

***

            With each successive day, Hermione looked with a mixture of dread and eagerness towards the moment when she would receive either acceptance into college, as well as, hopefully, a hefty scholarship, or denial into the life which she so coveted.  The suspense was making her edgy, and today proved it.  

            Irritated with her boss's shady manner, his endless propositions, and his ceaseless prodding to 'do a little side-business' (with him as the broker, of course), she had come so close to snapping that the words to an incantation had been on her lips, and her wand in her hand, pointed at the man.  The foolish, fat slob, not realizing just who he was dealing with, simply glared, a little startled, at the girl who had dared draw a wand on such a powerful and influential man as he.  He'd never know just how close he'd come to being trapped in an isolated world with only his own nightmares to keep him company.  

            It should have bothered Hermione that she had chosen such a spell as that to curse her boss with.  Sure, he was a slime, and sometimes a downright jackass, but was that truly reason enough to do something like that to him?  Then again, what was?  When your life is in limbo, lines between right and wrong and good and evil and day and night, they get blurred.  Escape and redemption become too closely intertwined with the degradation and entrapment that help you get there.

***

            Edouard was worried about Hermione.  Not merely that she was absent-minded when she was around him; he could have expected that, as her entire life rested upon the outcome of those tests, but sometimes she was downright mean.  She was not at all the Hermione Granger that he had come to cherish as his closest friend.  He would have liked to devote more time to her, but things were just beginning to hit it off with Amandine.  Mmm.  Just the name sent a little shiver of pleasure straight down his spine.

            Yesterday, he had taken Hermione's advice.  It was the Monday after his dinner with Hermione, and, invigorated from his friend, he had been determined to take that first step.  Imagine his surprise, however, when his shy and innocent Amandine had dropped a paper, right as he was about to say hello to her, and gave him the sort of look interested women have been lavishing on their chosen men for time immemorial, as she bent to pick it up.  

            He had been almost too shocked to respond, but the thought of what Hermione would say if she knew he had blown this big chance urged him to hurry and beat her to that blessed feuille de papier.  His hand brushed hers, and he could have sworn that he'd heard strains of sappy love ballads parading through his mind.  Unfortunately, those had soon been tuned out with her whimper of pain, and he looked up to realize that he had stupidly treaded upon her dainty foot.

            Crimson with embarrassment, the man who had been so dignified before he had met a dull-haired imp on a boat at a wedding now stuttered in asking the object of his admiration to eat lunch with him in his cubby.  If the blush she returned her affirmation with was any indication, she had never intended to make her interest in him known.  In fact, she had told him rather haltingly and with adorable flushes over egg salad sandwiches (oh, be still, heart; they had the same taste in luncheon foods!), she was so used to being ignored by people that she had become accustomed to doing and acting quite as she liked, without anyone ever realizing it.  

            Edouard didn't think he'd ever seen a more becoming shade of red as that deep hue which graced her fragile face as she, rather reluctantly, admitted that she had had a crush of her own for a few weeks now.  He floated on cloud nine at work, but every night, when Hermione came over for at least a few minutes to talk about how their days had gone…something was changed about her.  He even thought he knew what it was.  

            Just as he had warned her, living her double life was wearing on her.  She made sure that whenever she wasn't working she played the part of Calypso, but it didn't make her happy.  Despite the fact that it was the door of exit from her current life, there was something _too_ false about it.  He knew it, and she knew it.  The only thing that mattered, he guessed with a sigh as he gazed at the door, which had closed moments ago behind Hermione, was that the rest of the world…didn't know it.  

***

            "No, no.  That simply isn't possible!"

            "Page 182.  Ha!"  Severus allowed himself an arrogant smirk (his favorite expression, after his patented 'supercilious glare of doom') as he threw the Potions journal across to his old friend, Dilbert Humperdink.  Chuckling to himself, over in a corner of the fire-lit room (wizarding fire, hot in winter, but cold, like now, in the summer), was Alby.  He'd known the younger man would come out the winner in this match of wits, though the Dean of the Oxford University of Magick was no Fudge (after the war, and once Fudge had been gotten out of office, his name became a synonym for 'a complete failure who doesn't even know that he is one' and was adopted into slang accordingly.).  Together, along with the Minister of Magick ( Arthur's sixth grandchild had decided to enter the world a week or two early, and he was holding Percy's hand over the birth of his third child), and the Head of Magickal Law Enforcement (big green stuffed armchair, observing the scene with great amusement), these men held the greatest amount of power in the wizarding world.

            They met for drinks and discussion every other Saturday, but Severus had never accepted the invitation.  Still hadn't, come to think of it.  But Dil had found the man browsing a bookstore in Knockturn Alley, and had lured him into the house with promises of a rare book on Potions and Arithmancy.  It was only the fact that the tome was one of three existing copies in the world that caused Snape to forget his customary wariness (just that, and nothing else; certainly not sad brown eyes and lusterless brown hair on a face that ought to shine forever…) and accept the offer to view it.

            Entrenched in the fascinating book, and though he would never admit it, in thoughts of the last person with whom he had discussed the theories espoused in it, Snape did not notice the hours ticking by, or the light fading.  In fact, he was all but oblivious to the world until Alby, the first to arrive for the get together, knocked on the door.  

            Instead of being greeted by the rather silly looking house elf employed by Dilbert (Frunzle, he believed the creature's name to be), as was customary, the door seemed to open by itself.  Alby shrugged, and entered his old friend's house with ease.  With ease, that was, until Snape slithered out of the shadows with twelve inches of **powerful** ebony in his hand-pointed right at Alby's heart, which damned near stopped for a moment.  Snape's dark eyes were wide with a paranoia that somehow reached beyond Mad Eye Moody's bluster, to a life spent being unable to trust almost anything or anyone.  However, Snape soon realized who it was, and where he was, and the fact that, quite frankly, it was not his house and his host (who had been overseeing the preparations of the hors d'oevres, frightfully delicate little buggers, they were) was standing in the doorway giving him a look that bespoke amusement, bemusement, and a little bit of worry all at once.  

            The wand was lowered, and silence hung over the large house for a while, when, suddenly, a banging sound interrupted.  The three men looked around in bewilderment, but could see nothing.  Then, Dil looked around the corner, winced, and pulled the creature away from the solid wood door against which he was banging his head against.

            "Frunzle", the large, and intimidating, man boomed, "what HAVE I told you about punishing yourself ?"  It was easy to see how this man attracted the fear, and respect, of every student at Oxford Magickal.  The house elf seemed to shrink.

            " Not to…sir."  

            "Precisely.  So, you are just going to have to give yourself a day off, aren't you?"  The house elf looked so comically glum that the other two men in the room could barely hold their laughter.  

            "I suppose…so…sir…"

            "Oh, come now; who was that pretty…er cute…er…well, who was that female house elf I saw you talking with?  The one who came to deliver the message?"

            A cheered up house elf, it may be imagined, is a good site more amusing than even a downcast one, and mirth was bubbling under the currents of the room.

            "Ah, yes, sir…Algabrie.  Sir, may I go get the appetizers for your guests?"  A gracious nod from his master, and the house elf hurried off to attend to his domestic duties.  Again, silence hung over the room.

            Laughter broke loose upon the foyer like a tidal wave, beginning fairly loud, reaching a roaring crescendo, and finally trailing off into hearty chuckles as the men, all in accord, sojourned to the study.

            It wasn't until about an hour later, during a pause in a conversation ridiculing some commercial enterprise or other that was attempting to 'leave its mark on the wizarding world' that Severus realized precisely what he'd just gotten conned into.  By then, however, he was forced to reluctantly admit that there was nothing _wrong_ with having a little companionship of an evening's night, and had given in with as good a grace as, well, ever a Slytherin did.  The others managed to tolerate his sourness.

***

            Friday again.  He was beginning to loathe Fridays, if only for the reason that they reminded him that he **really** loathed Fridays when school began (weekends taunted him, seemingly denying the existence of the coming, bedamned, school week), and the further they got into August, the closer they got to that infamous August day: The First Day of School.  Which left, all in all, just one thing to be said.  _Damn_.  

***

       Fridays.  Busiest day of the week for her, and, while the most lucrative, most certainly the most degrading.  And this Friday was the worst of all, because in exactly one week, she was due to receive her owls from colleges across the world.  Thinking of the future, of the (hopefully) coming school year, gave her goosebumps.  And a headache.  She stubbed her toe as she walked off the stage, struggled to avoid an overexcited bussinesswizard with more cash than brains **or** common sense, and nearly ripped her costume as she stumbled into a splintered wooden doorway.  _DAMN_.  

**Thanks, and I'm sorry that this chapter is shorter, and is missing review replies.  I hope to shorten time between updates by putting less pressure on myself to achieve a certain length of chapter, I hope this is ok, cause it suits the muses, as well as the Gods of my Terribly Busy Life.  Again, much happiness during this season, whatever religion or nonreligion you are, and if you care to review, it would be a wonderful Christmas present to me.**


	12. QUICK SUMMARY

Quick Summary, created at one in the morning, for your less confoozlement:  
  
Hermione chose a low level research job, but it never paid off, instead leaving her alienated from her friends. Harry is a Quidditch player with political goals for the future, while Ron works with his brother's in their global, and highly successful, joke shop.  
  
Hermione runs into Snape, who is now the Headmaster of Hogwarts, as Albus has retred, with Lupin taking McGonagall's job, as she died in the war (Yes, Voldemort is dead, and yes, Harry defeated him, and yes, Snape is a war hero.and Hermione was captured by the Death Eaters to buy them all time, which left emotional scars which she is still dealing with). He has come to her work place to ask her to research something, and is as shocked with her rather pathetic life as she is with his, which has definitely taken a turn for the better.looking *wink*.  
  
Both Hermione and Snape are friends with the Head Librarian of the International Library of Magick, the English branch, nicknamed, Alby. The man, seeing his two favorite people together, does a little Dumbledore- esque matchmaking, throws them both out of the Library, where, for various reasons, they land up in Snape's ancestral home, and rather.fall in love, only we're not calling it that at this point. They leave the next day, and Snape goes back to his life, looking forward to meeting her for lunch, and Hermione falls back into hers. Her boss threatens to fire her if she doesn't comply with his lecherous demands, or he will slander her. She doesn't, he does, and Hermione escapes her friend's and the mainstream magickal world in disgrace, disappearing from everyone's radar, including Snape's.  
  
Hermione gets a job with a boss much like her former one, and works very, very hard at three menial jobs, one as a dancer in a nightclub (all businesses owned by the same man, Eldritch). She meets her close friend Edouard, a worker at le Minstere de Magique (French Ministry), at Harry's wedding to a teacher at Beauxbaton's, Mireille (his cousin). Hermione takes a step towards getting a normal life, but, unfortunately, still ashamed, avoids the Headmaster (not only are Snape and Harry friends, of a sort, but the wedding was at Hogwarts). She and Edouard try to date, but quickly realize they are much better friends.  
  
Hermione, with the help of Edouard, and a rather large amount of dithering between plans, gets her life back on the right track. She is forced to dance more, which she loathes, but she creates an entirely new persona: Calypso Anastasia, and she plans on using the money she earns to go to college. She and Edouard become closer friends (Amandine, Edouard's new love interest), Harry and Snape become closer friends (Potter and Snape, in a pub, drunk.), and she takes the college exams.  
  
Anything major I've forgotten, email me and I will corrections make. 


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